Mazed
by bluestocking01
Summary: Fifteen years after running the Labyrinth, Sarah has settled into a carefully ordinary life, albeit one where her sleep has lately been plagued with nightmares. Despite her best endeavours to avoid even thinking the word 'wish', the Goblin King shows up one day, claiming she has summoned him there. But is he telling the truth? She'll have to run the Labyrinth to find out.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Come away, O human child!**

**To the waters and the wild**

**With a faery, hand in hand,**

**For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. (W.B. Yeats, "The Stolen Child")**

"I wish the goblins would come and take you away!"

The child stood between the walls, bemused and weeping. A handprint shone red on his cheek and his thin limbs were marked with bruises, some fresh, some fading. The grimy shirt, made, surprisingly of fine linen, hung off sharp undernourished shoulders. His face, fine-boned and birdlike, was smeared with dirt and tears.

He took a step forward and a small, dark-furred creature darted between his feet and tripped him, sending him sprawling on the rough stone pathway.

The child screamed, but it was a scream not of fear, but of pain mixed, rather surprisingly, with rage. He pushed up himself upright and screamed again. This time the rage dominated and the creatures watching made sounds of awe and dismay.

A bare foot stomped and a shrill voice commanded, "Stop it at once!"

A pair of burning, intelligent eyes stared about at the creatures.

"I shan't stand for this!"

The creatures were discomfited. Children reacted with tears or with hysterics, shaking and soiling themselves with fright, but none had _ever_ been angry. This boy was battered and bruised, yet still his spirit remained bright, flaming like sword.

A thing resembling a mix between a lizard and a crow scurried to a new hiding place, but failed to move quickly enough to avoid the hands that pounced at the sign of movement. It moaned and snapped ineffectually at the boy with its black beak.

"Tell me what you are!" The child demanded.

The creature croaked, "I'm Gref."

"Is that your name?"

"Heeee," the creature breathed, then it writhed sharply and escaped the boy's grasp, disappearing behind a rock that hardly seemed big enough to hide it.

A grunt and another stomp of frustration. "But what _are_ you?"

"We's goblinssss." The voice came from a nearby hollow.

"Goblins?"

"Ysssssss."

"Tell me, goblins, what is this place?"

"S'the Labyrinth."

"Labyrinth?"

Silence.

"How do I get out?"

Silence.

"How do I get out of here?!" There was a note of panic in the boy's voice, although he held his head high.

Silence.

Thin hands clenched and narrow shoulders squared. He waited. Finally a hissing whisper on the wind answered,

"_No one ever escapes the Labyrinth_."

"Why not?"

There was still silence, but this time it had a contemplative quality to it, as though Something were thinking of an answer. A small whirlwind swirled the dead leaves around him and a hissing whisper echoed through the passage, "_Everything here is mine_."

"I am _not_ yours. I'm _mine._"

"_You are here. What is here is mine_."

"That's not fair! I didn't choose to be here! It was my mother. . . "

"_She gave you to me_."

"But what if," the boy's voice faltered, "what if she wanted me back? What if it was a mistake?"

"_A wish strong enough to call goblins comes from true desire. It was not a mistake. There is no going back. Indeed, she has already forgotten you ever existed._"

The boy's lip quivered and he swallowed hard, but he did not cry.

There was approval in the silence.

"_Human boy, you have rare courage and spirit. I can offer you something better than the little life you had. If you take it, you will be powerful beyond imagination. Time and matter will bend to your will. You could move the stars if you so choose. You will command dreams_."

"How? Tell me how?"

"_As King of the Goblins, you will have magic at your command_."

The boy considered for a minute or so, then replied, "If I must stay here, I would rather stay as King than just as me. I will accept your offer."

The Something seemed to chuckle softly, "_Beware, boy, magic power does not come without conditions: I do ask for something in return._"

"What do you want?"

"_What I ask for is such a small thing. Just let me rule you-and you can have everything that you want. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave_."

"I must obey you?" The boy's tone was edged with distaste and suspicion. "What would I have to do?"

"_You would be mine to command. As my emissary, you would answer the wishes of those who call on the powers of the goblins_." The Something's tone became sly, "_You will be able to teach them a lesson they won't soon forget_."

"I could save them? The children?"

"_They will become your subjects_."

"I want to save them." He thought a moment, then asked wistfully, "But what if the one who wished them away wanted them back?"

"_They must pass the test of the Labyrinth. You will offer them the challenge. They must find you in the Goblin Castle and stay true to their desire, despite all temptation. Only will they both be free_."

"I think I would like to be able to save them. I will take your offer and be King of the Goblins."

"_Then hold out your hand, boy_."

The boy obeyed. A crystal ball appeared in his palm.

"_Swear on this crystal that you will belong to the Labyrinth forever_."

"Forever?" Doubt sounded in his voice.

"_It's not long. Not with magic_."

The boy said the words.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food?  
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,**  
**By longing for that food so long a time. (**_**Two Gentlemen of Verona**_**, )**

"How can you be so calm and composed about this, Sarah? How are you not crying your eyes out right now? If it were me, I'd be puffy-eyed and neck deep in a tub of ice cream for weeks."

Sarah Williams smiled ruefully at her friend across the diner booth.

"What's the point of getting that upset about it, Emily? He doesn't love me. Whether he ever did or not is immaterial. It's over. I'll cry about it later, I suppose, but right now," she shrugged, "Well, I guess ... I'm too relieved to feel sad. He was getting so..." She paused as she ruthlessly cut off a large corner of her chocolate cheese cake with her fork and ate it. Keeping her mouth full seemed the best way to delay the conversation.

"'So'...? 'So' ... what? Oh no, you don't. " Emily pulled the plate away as Sarah went to take another bite of cheese cake. "Stop putting me off. Rob was getting so-?"

Sarah sighed and picked up her coffee. "Well, so _needy_, if you must know." She hastily took a swallow of coffee, then resignedly replaced her cup in the saucer when she saw her friend's reaction. "Stop looking at me like that, Emily. You know I've never gone for all that mushy stuff-it's smothering. I can't stand the pressure to constantly respond with sweet nothings and silly inanities like "honey" and "babe" and all that. It's not my style to coo and caress." She beckoned for the cheesecake.

Her friend pushed the plate back at her across the table, shaking her head in disgust.

"Seriously, Sarah, how are you the same girl who used to dream about knights and ladies-all though elementary _and_ high school-and were mad for all the most serious romances and fantasy novels? It was all drama and emotion with you! How many times did I see you get grounded or sent to the office for being late to class 'cause you were dawdling in a day dream somewhere? You cannot possibly be _this_ cold about Rob-you guys have been dating for 5 months! He was talking about rings, for Pete's sake! How can you not even care? Your first serious love affair and you don't care when it's over, but you're "relieved"?" She crooked her fingers into air quotes. "It's not natural."

"But it's not-" Sarah started to protest, but stopped short, looking down and cutting another corner of cheesecake as unfamiliar tears began to swim on the edges of her vision. She blinked and ate the bite of cheesecake, its sweetness suddenly much too cloying and sticky.

"Not what?" Emily's voice seemed to soften as she sensed the change in her friend's mood.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Really? You think I believe that? Nothing is what everyone says when there is Something-and when I say something, I mean something with a capital 'S'."

Sarah took another sip of coffee. She could feel her friend's eyes on her. Finally, she sighed and looked up.

"I don't want to talk about it, Em." Her mouth twisted as she tried to smile, but the tears on the edge of her vision threatened to slip out and down her cheeks. "I just-I-" She covered her face with her hands as a giant sob rose in her throat.

"I _knew_ you couldn't be as calm about this as you claimed!" Her friend said triumphantly. "Aw, Sare, I'm so sorry. Tell me about it. How did he tell you he was breaking up with you?"

"No, Emily, really, it's not Rob." She drew a tight breath and looked up at her friend. "Please, Em. I can't talk about this."

Emily seemed to be satisfied once she thought that Sarah was more upset about Rob than she showed. Mercifully, she forbore to force Sarah into talking, for which Sarah was immensely grateful. Better for Emily to believe she was heartbroken over Rob than to tell her the ridiculous truth.

For how could she possibly tell her friend her heart was still breaking over someone she'd only met a few short minutes 15 years ago? That she had recently discovered that, against all cool and rational logic, she had somehow fallen into love with _him_ in the years since they had parted and still hadn't managed to pick herself up after the realization?

It was dusk when she finally made it home. Emily had dragged her to the mall-"retail therapy, Sarah!"-and wasn't satisfied until Sarah had tried on every single green shirt or dress in the stores. "You know you always look fabulous in green, Sarah. You need to look your best if you're going to feel your best."

Sarah was willing to be distracted. The break up with Rob had just confirmed her worst fears: ever since the Labyrinth and meeting a certain Goblin King, she hadn't really been able to let anyone fully into her heart. She kept herself soaked in cold reason and refused to feel anything more than friendship-warm, affectionate friendship-but friendship nevertheless. Love was completely out of the question. Even her relationships with her family had suffered. It was ironic that although she had been able to save Toby, she still couldn't love him once he was back. Right when she thought she was going to be reconciled to the idea of a step-mother and a half-brother, something had gone awry and while she was able to be pleasant and put on a façade of familial affection, she didn't feel it where it counted.

Apparently, defeating the Goblin King was no guarantee that she would be free from the aftereffects of the experience. Or the feeling that in coming back from the Underground, she had left her home behind. The ache of memory nestled in her chest, a constant companion. It would lie quiet for a spell, and she'd think that she was finally over it. Then something would remind her of there, and the ache would stretch and yawn and its claws would tear through the scars and leave her raw and weeping behind a mask of cool indifference.

Unlocking the apartment door, she entered without turning on a light and turned the deadbolt. She dropped her purse and coat and the bag with the emerald blouse and matching earrings that Emily had shanghaied her into buying on a chair. Kicking off her boots, she flopped on the couch and took a deep breath. As she stared up through the skylight at the darkening blue of the evening sky, she wondered if there was a way she could just obliterate the memory of that night. Forgetting would be a blessing, she thought. But-did she really want to? How much of her was tied up in the Labyrinth? How much of her soul did it touch? She was afraid that forgetting would be suicide. Who would she be without-At the thought the memories flooded in again, sharp as knives and clear as a crystal. As they had time after time, glinting, mismatched eyes stole her soul away and a voice like steel and velvet said softly, "And you, Sarah, how are you enjoying my labyrinth?" It resounded forever in her heart and head and sang in her ears whenever there was silence.

Slow tears started their treacherous way down her face, leaving cold trails behind them. Hands over her mouth, she tried to stop the soundless sobs which threatened to breakout into the open. She would never escape the Labyrinth.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**I trembling waked, and for a season after  
Could not believe but that I was in hell,  
Such terrible impression made the dream. (**_**King Richard III**_**, )**

The scream woke Sarah from a sound sleep and she sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. Morning light streamed across her bed and showed her the tangled mess of sheets of her once neatly made bed. She looked around the room, focusing on reality. Chairs, table, lamp-she named off the items like a silent chant in her head.

Swallowing, she winced. Had she actually screamed? A frantic knocking at her apartment door and muffled calls of "Sarah? Sarah! Are you ok? Sarah, open the door!" convinced her that she must have. She scrambled on a robe and ran to shoot back the deadbolts on the door.

"Sarah! Thank goodness!"

"Mrs. Abertain, I am so sorry to have scared you. I think I was having a nightmare."

"Some nightmare," the sleepy voice of Tom Manderville from across the hall cut in on Sarah's assurances to the elderly woman. "You have these often? 'Cause I might have to get me some earplugs if that's the case." He scratched his stubbly chin and yawned. "I thought someone was dyin'."

Sarah laughed lightly, "Not quite, Tom. I'm sorry for waking you. I don't think I've ever actually screamed in my sleep before."

Mrs. Abertain patted her arm. "Well, I've never heard you make even a peep before, but when I heard you just now I thought something horrible had happened."

Sarah apologized again and the two concerned neighbours returned to their own apartments.

When she had closed and re-locked the door, she slumped to the floor with her back against the door and sat for a while trying to grasp the threads of her dreams. Nothing. She couldn't remember dreaming anything. What was the word which had woken her? Strange that she couldn't remember.

She leaned her forehead on her knees and took a deep breath. A flash of green and blue behind her eyelids brought her head up in a hurry. Him? No, it couldn't be. She had never dreamed about the Labyrinth or those she had met there. Ironically, that was the only reprieve she got lately, she thought, since the experience only haunted her every waking moment. . .

By nine o'clock she was on the road to work at the university. Her job as librarian-curator of the rare books collection was nowhere near the career she had wanted as a teenager. Then, she had planned on becoming an actress, either stage or film, she hadn't cared which. She had gone to university with that as her goal, but then one elective course on librarianship had initiated her into the world of folios, manuscripts, foxing, and book binding. Well, to tell the truth, it wasn't the course itself, but the mandatory work hours in the university library, where one day, the chief librarian had taken her into the pokey little back room and introduced her to a Shakespeare rare edition which was in need of some careful restoration.

"I've seen the way you handle books, Sarah. You don't just read them or use them- even when you're filing, you hold them like a precious treasure. I think you might have the right touch for this type of work."

It turned out that Tania Feyling had been right. Sarah finished her degree, Major in Drama, Minor in English, followed that up with a Masters in Library Science, and she had been working at the university ever since. It was not as exciting as a life in the spotlight, but she loved being surrounded by books. One of the great benefits was the opportunity to travel to different auctions and estate sales in search of texts to add to the collection. She enjoyed the challenge of restoring her finds.

She got her drama fix performing in a local summer theatre. They had put on Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_ last June, and Sarah had snagged the role of Beatrice, which she played to the hilt. The actor playing Benedick had affected a rather stilted "British" accent and had continually tried to persuade her into "private rehearsals", but other than that one fly in the ointment she had enjoyed herself immensely. There was something about the ever-so witty verbal dueling between the characters which she revelled in. They planned on putting on _A Midsummer's Night Dream _next year and Sarah hoped that she would land a principal role again, something she could really sink her teeth into.

As she drove home that evening, she thought about the experience of acting. It was somehow easier to play a part than to be plain Sarah Williams, librarian, with a stuffy third floor apartment downtown. Beatrice never had to go grocery-shopping in the pouring rain, she thought to herself as she maneuvered her car through a crowded parking lot. Beatrice never had to cook supper for one either.

That had been one benefit of being in a relationship. Rob had been a self-proclaimed "foodie" and their dates had generally consisted of dinner at one of his newly-discovered restaurants-he had called them his "sensations." She could usually count on at least three meals out a week with Rob, sometimes more, and as a result she had gotten out of the habit of cooking.

An hour later, she lugged the plastic grocery bags up the stairs-the elevator was more often out of service than in-and after some careful juggling, unlocked the door. After putting away her microwave dinners, canned soup, and cereal, she changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, started a movie and sat down cross-legged on the couch to eat her chicken alfredo.

Somewhere about halfway through the movie, she must have fallen sleep. She woke up just enough to turn off the TV and stumble to her room and crawl into bed.

_She stood in a long stone corridor. There were no lights or torches, but somehow she could still see in the dim gloom. At the end she saw a figure standing, waiting. For her? She began running toward it, bare feet pounding on the floor. She ran for what seemed like miles, never getting any closer to the person at the end of the corridor. Eventually, she stopped, her hand pressed to the stitch in her side. She bent over, trying to get her breath back and wheezed for a minute or so until the stitch went away. _

_Then she looked up again-straight into her own eyes. _

_Startled, she gasped. Then she noticed that she was at the end of the hall and before her was a gold-framed mirror._

_The reflection showed her clothed in a silver grey gown, her dark hair loose about her shoulders, restrained only by a simple silver coronet. Sarah looked down-she wasn't wearing a dress. Her bare feet stood on the same stone floor, but she was wearing her regular yoga pants and t-shirt. She looked up again and blinked when her reflection smiled at her. It wasn't a pleasant smile-it was much too predatory to be pleasant. _

_"Hello, Sarah. Welcome back."_

_And Sarah, to her shock, felt the words in her own throat, on her own tongue. Then the reflection reached out a hand and pulled her through the mirror. _

_A gate-stone walls-clinging vines-a dark pit-falling, falling, falling. Would nobody catch her?! The water was closing in around her, her lungs burned, ached to breathe, but she couldn't get her feet to move. She fought to reach the surface, but something was pulling her down deeper and deeper. She tried to call_ his _name, but her mouth filled with water and then everything went black. _

Sarah woke up gasping and wild-eyed. Seeing the familiar shapes of her room around her, she fell back on her pillow and looked at the clock: 1:00 AM.

How many nights in a row had she had these nightmares? She couldn't remember. Every time she dreamed of drowning and she would wake drenched in sweat with tears streaming down her face.

In her dreams she was continually running, searching, trying to find him, but every time, she would find herself face to face with this terrifying version of herself. And every time, her cruelly smiling doppelganger would reach out and pull her into the mirror where she would drown all alone, and where no matter how hard she tried, she could never manage to call his name.

At first she had been able to push away the waves of longing that would sweep over her in the aftermath of the dreams. She would push them away, bury them deep down, and carry on with her life. But lately at the strangest moments the feeling would swell in her throat and she would be left gasping for breath. The ache in her chest had begun to suffocate her.

She pushed herself upright in bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her entire being was suddenly shaken with inexorable yearning. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she bowed her head and trembled with emotion. Tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. _I need you._ _So, so badly_. Suddenly, she found herself almost hyperventilating as the sobs came fast and thick. Eventually they slowed and she crawled back under the covers and lay there curled on her side, trying not to fall back asleep. On the edges of her consciousness, a pair of mismatched eyes looked at her with scorn, then softened in a smile.

"Jareth."

In desperation, she breathed his name, too weary even to fear what it might mean. Then, exhausted, she fell back into a restless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. (**_**Antony and Cleopatra, **_** )**

Sarah woke up gradually, drifting in and out of conscious thought. When she eventually surfaced from her half-sleep, she kept her eyes closed and lay there curled up in the circle of warmth and smiled. Somehow, she felt perfectly safe and content, and she didn't want to lose the feeling quite yet.

"Sarah." The voice came from somewhere above her head. She refused to let it steal her lovely feeling. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

"Sarah." The voice was more insistent this time.

Sarah sighed and opened her eyes, blinking at the sunlight glowing through the curtains.

"Hmm?"

"I should like to have my arm back if you don't mind."

"Huh?" She sighed sleepily and attempted to roll onto her back, but there was something-someone, she quickly realized-behind her. Who on earth was in her bed? She flipped awkwardly onto her stomach and turned her head against the pillow. Only to look up into the amused face of the Goblin King!

"Close your mouth, Sarah, and don't look so surprised. You called for me, didn't you?"

Her mouth snapped closed as her head jerked up off his arm. She flailed wildly, trying to get up, get away-"Damn these sheets!" She finally freed herself from the tangle and scrambled off the bed.

The Goblin King remained on the bed, propped up against the pillows, and winced as he rubbed the circulation back into his arm.

"Well, that was less than comfortable," he remarked.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?!"

"Now, now, Sarah, is that any way to speak to the man you slept on half the night?"

"What?" She spat the word at him, furious at his cool unconcerned appearance. She felt rumpled and she was sure she had a major case of bedhead.

"Really, Sarah, don't play coy. It doesn't become you. You know why I'm here."

"What do you want?"

"Oh but _you_ summoned _me_. Don't you know why?"

"I didn't!"

"I wouldn't be here if you hadn't wished me here."

"I would never- Do you think I'm stupid enough to do that again?"

He raised a skeptical eyebrow and shook his head in mock disappointment. "And this is the thanks I get for answering your wish."

"I never wished, I tell you!"

She could see his growing annoyance at her refusal to confess. He sat up then and swung his legs off the bed. He rose and came toward her.

"I don't believe you. As I said, I wouldn't be here if you hadn't wished me here. I couldn't be." There was a sincerity in his voice as he said the last words that arrested her attention.

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why couldn't you be here if I hadn't wished you here?"

"Because that is how it works. You wish. I answer. No wish. No answer."

Somehow she got the feeling that he was hedging, but he had gotten closer to her as he spoke and she suddenly didn't have the breath to question him.

Somehow she had forgotten how devastatingly attractive he was. The mere proximity of him was . . . unsettling. He wore the clothes he had worn when she first met him, minus the high-collared cape and breast plate, and the black leather jacket and pants were altogether too flattering. She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. He smelled-intoxicating.

Now that he was actually standing there in front of her again, she felt the old looming danger of his presence. Her younger self had felt the attraction as a threat, but now Sarah knew it for what it was. Yet still she shied away from consciously acknowledging it, preferring instead to deal with him as impartially as she could. Eventually, she knew, it would be unavoidable, but right now she had enough to do just looking into his eyes without allowing _that_ part of herself free to do what it liked. Perhaps it was a futile effort, maybe it was just a way of controlling her urge to wrap herself around him and never let go.

She stepped back and around him toward the door.

"Running away?"

"I thought maybe you'd like a cup of coffee or something?" She said, shuffling her feet into her moccasin-style slippers.

Jareth quirked an eyebrow in slight suspicion. "You cannot bluff your way out, Sarah."

"I know, I know: 'What's said is said'-but I never said it, I promise."

"Impossible."

She rolled her eyes and left the room to start the coffee. However, instead of passing through the hall into her little galley kitchen, she walked straight into the Goblin King's throne room.

"Oh, _clever_, Goblin King! So now you're adding outright kidnapping to your repertoire?"

Jareth lounged coolly in his throne across the room, self-satisfaction narrowing his eyes to slits.

"Consider yourself my hostage, rather. If you persist in lying to me, I shall have no choice but to hold you here until you admit the truth."

She snorted. "You wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face."

His voice in her ear made her jump.

"Try me."

She wheeled around to see him smirking at her discomfiture.

"I-" Her mouth snapped shut, the horror of what she was about to say plainly written on her face. _I wish you would stop doing that!_ She had nearly _wished_ something. After how many years of being so fearfully careful about even thinking the words.

What was it about the Goblin King that threw off her equilibrium so much?

He stepped closer and for the first time since their second meeting, Sarah was afraid of him. Not what he had done, but what he _could_ still do-if he so desired. Things had started out so comfortably that she had been lulled into a false sense of security. She had forgotten that he was capricious and proud and. . . yes. . . yes. . . he _was_ cruel. Despite all his promises of mornings of gold and Valentine evenings, he was still the Goblin King.

He was thoroughly selfish, arrogant, and imperious, and oh, how she lo-NO, she stopped herself. Lear had it right: _That way madness lies; let me shun that; no more of that. _He had enough of an advantage without her acknowledging _that _in a place where wishes came at _his_ price. Even in his most intimate moments, he did not stoop to humility. _I ask for so little. Just let me rule you and you can have everything that you want. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave. _He commanded even as he pleaded. It wasn't in his nature to give without expecting anything in return.

Plus, she thought, he couldn't stand losing and he would go to any and all lengths to get his way. Sort of-she thought suddenly-like spoiled child. Well, she knew how to deal with children. Seven years babysitting Toby had been good for something after all.

She flashed him a look, the amusement she felt glinting in her pale green eyes.

Jareth seemed taken aback, his eyes widening slightly, then they narrowed and glinted right back: the Goblin King regained his sangfroid quickly. His upper lip lifted in his usual mocking smile. Sarah wondered idly how she could remember these expressions of his so well after all these years.

"I will have the truth, one way or another."

She sensed the doubt that caused him to repeat his earlier words and she quickly looked away to hide her glee. So she _could_ put him at a disadvantage now. He knew a whining, petulant fifteen year old Sarah, who could be cowed and who used memorized words to assert her so-called power. Sarah knew that he could not possibly realize the depth of the change that fifteen years of waiting could make. The despair of hoping against hope had made her as cynical as he was himself. Then there were the acting lessons learned through the years of pretending her heart wasn't shattered-the social smiles and endless streams of small talk around conference tables and cocktails.

"Oh," She flashed him a wary, slightly fearful, overwhelmed look, one she remembered her younger self as giving, and swallowed.

He preened slightly, his head tilting in that way he had when he wanted to be intimidating. _Oh yes, you are frightening, my dear Jareth, but not in the way you think. _She drew a controlled breath, trying to maintain the posture of her younger self. She recalled the wide-eyed stare of injured innocence and her cry of "It's not fair!" Her embarrassment in the recollection caused to her to cringe for real.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"I will not be trifled with, Sarah, I warn you. You would be wise to tell me now."

Something was off in this whole situation. Why was he so convinced that she was lying to him? Hadn't he known exactly what she had said last time? Didn't he _know_?

She looked up at him, narrow suspicion in her eyes.

"_You_ don't _know, do you?_ You brought me here because you didn't know what else to do, _didn't you?_"

Just before he vanished, she saw an wholly unexpected expression flash across his face. Jareth, the Goblin King, _afraid_?

The world had indeed turned if that was the case.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. (**_**Cymbeline**_**, )**

Jareth paced his work room. How dare she be so acute? He hadn't felt this off-balance since the last time she had been in his castle. What happened to the little innocent he could intimidate with his mere presence? Although, he admitted, she hadn't stayed intimidated for long. Not even in the peach-induced dream had he managed to seduce her attention completely. Her tendency to single-mindedness was damnably irritating. He would have to be careful. Very careful.

If she were once to suspect the whole truth, he'd lose whatever chance he had of making things right between them. Too bad he would have to resort to subterfuge to keep her here. It would most definitely _not _help his case in the long run. Not that he hadn't already broken the rules. She hadn't actually wished at all. Not properly. She hadn't said the right words. She had only said one.

But, he told himself, the desire was there. If it hadn't been, he'd never have been able to turn up in her room and see her sleeping there, the tears still drying on her cheeks.

He had wanted her before. She was a pleasure to play with and he had had fun in their little contest. It had added some interest to his otherwise boring existence, her innocence a piquant foil to his cynicism. She had surprised him in her persistence. He had eventually had to admit that she was a fitting opponent. His admiration had, he found, altered ever-so gradually to something else, something which had prompted him, desperately, to offer. . . himself. But, he thought ruefully, she hadn't even been tempted at that point. She had been so focused on remembering her lines that his offer had been brushed aside as a mere ploy to distract her. Then she had turned her eyes on him and unhesitatingly spoken the words that had truly turned his world upside down. After that he had been lost.

For a long time he had hated her and wanted revenge. He wanted her to wish again, even something inconsequential that he could twist into a summons. He schemed and connived, tried to find a way to trap her into a wish. Nothing worked. He finally gave up and decided to wait her out. Eventually she would have to slip up.

He watched her through the owl. Watched as she went about her life and resented all the people who didn't value her as they should. Couldn't they see how extraordinary she was? Watched as her face lost its girlish curves and sharpened into womanhood.

When she began her association (he refused to call it a relationship) with the food-obsessed Rob, he was furiously jealous. How dare she squander herself on that lout?! He had been pleased to note that she did not follow the conventions of her world and move in with the creature. At least he was spared seeing her subside into disgusting domesticity.

He had also been surprised by her choice of profession. A keeper of books? His impetuous Sarah? It seemed a dull way for such a vital thing to spend her time. Then, one day, he saw her practicing for the Shakespeare and the sight had momentarily taken his breath away. _That_ was the Sarah he knew. Her green eyes brilliant and flashing with wit and intelligence. Her face glowed with pleasure at what she was doing.

The last while he had not watched her quite as often. There had been a rash of children wished away and he had been kept busy with watching their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters run the Labyrinth in, usually, futile attempts to win them back. He had been moderately amused.

Then. . . Then he had felt _her _summons and answered it without a second thought, eager to teach her the lesson she so richly deserved. He had appeared in her room in all his glory-only to find her lying there, a worn look on her sleeping, tear-streaked face. He didn't know what had prompted him to crawl onto the bed beside her and gather her into his arms. The sobbing whimper she made when she curled instinctively into his embrace had twisted his heart in an unfamiliar fashion. He held her there until the light of dawn had painted the walls with red and gold and then she had waked and things had turned to the bad.

It was only after she asked him why he was there that he had realized that she hadn't actually made a true wish. He did his best to cover his confusion, but then she had stood there and said-He shook his head. He had to figure out how she had managed to break all precedent like this.

He needed time. Hence the quest he would set her. No matter that it wasn't real. She need never know. He'd let her win-maybe-if it came to that. Thirteen days to go to the far side of the Labyrinth, fetch the Opal from the shrine and return to the castle.

He smiled. There was a certain symmetry about it. Thirteen days, one day for each of the hours he had given her before. He could have her thirteen days.

He had a feeling it wouldn't be long enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!** **(**_**Macbeth**_**, ) **

Sarah had been left kicking her heels in the throne room for a good twenty minutes and was getting very annoyed. She had tried to leave and see if she could find her old friends, but every time she had left the room by one door, she found herself entering it by another. It was a continuous loop and she soon gave up trying. She wished she had a shoe to throw through the door so she could see if it worked like that for everything or just her. She wouldn't put it past him. She decided to give it one more shot.

"Anxious to leave, are we?" The Goblin King had reappeared and stood leaning nonchalantly in the opposite doorway.

She didn't deign to reply but shot him a venomous look.

"Tch, tch, tch. Temper, temper," he mocked. "And here I was going to offer you a way to escape the Labyrinth."

Sarah was aware of an impulse to go back through the door behind her and kick the Goblin King in his royal butt as she came through. Too bad she didn't have a way of knowing he'd stay there for her to do it. Inevitably, he'd find a way to turn it against her.

"It wouldn't work anyway, Sarah."

"What wouldn't?"

"Oh don't play the innocent with me. Your face really is quite an easy book to read." The wicked grin he shot her was enough to convince her that he had guessed at her thoughts.

"What is your offer?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Besides just staying here and being my queen?" He asked.

"Besides _that_." She made the word sound like filth.

His eyes darkened with an emotion she wasn't sure she had read right, but his voice was lightly matter-of-fact.

"A quest then, if being queen doesn't appeal." Maybe she hadn't seen disappointment, maybe it was just annoyance. Well, Goblin King, she thought, prepare to be well and truly annoyed. This girl is not giving up without a fight.

"What kind of a quest?"

"One which will win you your freedom-if you complete it in time."

"What do I need to do?"

"Journey to the far side of the Labyrinth, find and retrieve something for me, and return here in thirteen days."

"Thirteen days?!" Last time it had been thirteen hours. She had a feeling that she was in a bit deeper this time. . .

"Naturally, today will not count against you. You will have until sunset on the thirteenth day after tomorrow."

"Oh, naturally, _thank_ you. You are always _so_ magnanimous."

"Sarcasm really doesn't become you, Sarah."

"This coming from you?" Her brows arched incredulously. "Don't you _ever_ dare tell me what to do or how to feel, Jareth. I will be sarcastic if I damn well please and you-you-you can just go to hell!"

She missed the pained expression which flitted over his face, but caught what she thought was a laugh at her expense.

"Oh yeah, laugh at the mortal. So foolish and melodramatic. Well, Mr. Glitter King, you aren't above being dramatic yourself!"

At that Jareth snorted with laughter. "Mr. Glitter King? Is that how you think of me?"

She was nonplused by his reaction. "Well, no, not really," she admitted. "But the glitter is rather ridiculous."

"It's a side effect of changing dimensions. _Not_ really something I _do_."

"It's still ridiculous."

"Shrew." The silken whisper was almost a caress. Sarah had to restrain the impulse to shiver. Damn him, she thought, how could he do such things to her without even touching her? She swallowed and managed to retort.

"Bully."

His low chuckle just about eradicated the rest of her anger. _No, I will not let him take that from me. I'll never get out of here without it. _

"What is this thing I need to retrieve?"

"The Labyrinth Opal."

"What if I can't find it?"

"It is not very well hidden. I don't think you will have any trouble. Find it and bring it back here in thirteen days and I will send you. . . home."

He seemed genuinely sincere. She couldn't think that he'd fake it so well. Although, she had to give him credit: in general, he was quite straight forward in his dealings with her. At least he'd told her when he was changing the rules or stealing her time. . . Or coercing her friends into betraying her with a peach-no, actually that _was_ something she could hold against him. She would need to remember that Jareth was a snake and would twist anything and everything to his advantage. Poor Hoggle, she thought reminiscently, he was always a coward where Jareth was concerned. With good reason: after all, the Bog of Stench was not an empty threat. She shuddered at the memory.

She turned back to face him. "How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"Don't you trust me, Sarah?"

"Why should I?"

"Haven't I always kept my word with you?"

"Oh your _word_." She filled her voice with sarcasm. "Oh, yes, you've always kept your _word_. It's the constant alteration of the rules that kind of gets me though. Coercing my friends, stealing my time-"

He broke in, "You didn't need it, you know."

"That's not the point and you know it."

He shrugged, "It was part of the game."

"Game? _Game_?! It meant my brother, Jareth, don't pretend that it was _just_ a game."

"You think I didn't play fair?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's say that 'I wonder what your basis for comparison is.'"

"Must you cast all my past offenses up at me? Hasn't my behaviour this time around at least atoned in part for my behaviour all those years ago? My poor arm is still regaining feeling."

She just looked at him, accusation in her eyes. Finally, he sighed in resignation.

"What can I do to prove my good faith, Sarah?"

"Does 'fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave' ring any bells?"

"'Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher,'" he replied, a rueful smile on his face.

Surprised mid-breath, Sarah laughed at the incongruity of the Goblin King quoting _Much Ado About Nothing. _The anger she had felt at his callous unconcern for his behaviour suddenly cleared and amusement took over.

"Shakespeare, Jareth? Well," she smiled saucily, "'A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.'"

"Vixen."

"Satyr." She flung the word back at him as she stepped toward the door. As she turned away, a wicked grin spring to life on his face.

"Well, well, well. . . I'll take that challenge." Before she had taken two steps his hand on her wrist pulled her off-balance and into his arms, where he proceeded to teach her the true meaning of the word.

As they broke apart, she said, rather breathlessly, "'You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old.'"

Jareth laughed and tapped one finger gently under her chin. "You should know better than to taunt me, my dear. After all, I'm not one to take a challenge lightly." He moved away and lounged against the wall at her side.

"You're a sore loser, Jareth,"she replied sourly.

"Ah, but in this instance, I think I've won."

"Are you sure?"

The smile he gave her was wolfish, but his eyes and voice were so unexpectedly tender that she suddenly felt as though she had stumbled off an unexpected cliff.

"Oh I think so."

Perhaps, she thought, perhaps he had.

"You're doing it again, Jareth."

"What?"

"Changing the rules."

"_Changing_ the rules?" He queried. "Oh, Sarah, _this_ was always written into the game."

At that admission, a frisson of anticipation ran up and down her spine. She stole a sidelong look at him and found him looking right back at her. Eyes snapping forward, she swore inwardly at her gullibility in setting him up perfectly for that line. She felt his piercing gaze on her rapidly warming face and hoped that he couldn't see the blush she was certain was creeping up her neck. Damn him and his insidious eyebrows. She refused to look at him, knowing even as she did that he would take it as a victory.

"What do you propose we do with the rest of this _lovely_ day?" She did her best to keep her discomfort to herself and once again resorted to sarcasm as a shield.

"Breakfast?" he suggested. At her doubtful look, he lifted a hand to forestall any protests. "No peaches or spelled fruits of any kind will be involved, you have my word."

"Oh? But will you keep it? I seem to remember-"

"Sarah." This time the hurt in his voice was unmistakable. "I promise you, I will not employ such tricks ever again."

Sincerity? From the sneering Goblin King? Or just its counterfeit? She decided to trust him-this time.

She nodded and he gestured toward the door behind her.

"This way."

He brought her to what must be his workroom. Sarah found herself blinking in bewilderment at the contrast between this room and the rest of the castle which she had seen. Those other rooms had been uncompromisingly stark and rather dirty or, in the case of the Escher room, confusingly convoluted. This room was none of those things. Book shelves filled with worn volumes lined the walls, while a large desk sat under one of the windows where the light would do most good. A dark blue velvet armchair and matching sofa were grouped before another window alcove. A small table and two chairs stood in a corner. There were even plants-ferns-cascading from a narrow table in front of the window. It was large and surprisingly airy for the lair of the Goblin King. Maybe this room was more in line with his owl self? Which one, she wondered, was the real Jareth?

They breakfasted on toast and cheese, washed down with a cup of hot tea. The tray of food was on the desk when they arrived, so Sarah never saw who brought it. Maybe it was magicked in; she didn't know, and forbore to ask. She didn't want to know if it was magic food. She was too hungry to care. Last night's microwave dinner was a long way away.

She was surprised that Jareth (she had begun thinking of him as Jareth again, somehow this room did not really say Goblin King) ate with her. Did he have to eat? She thought about asking him, but decided that might be another question she did not want to know the answer to. But she watched him smear his toast liberally with butter, taking care to spread it right to the edges, and decided maybe he did. It was a disconcerting thing to realize. Somehow she had never thought of him eating. It . . . humanized him somehow. She didn't know if she liked that. It made him . . . more real and less like the imperious and unyielding Goblin King she remembered.

He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up suddenly and seemed to read the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Is something the matter?"

"Huh, um, no. No, nothing." She looked down at her plate.

"Have you decided what you would like to do for the rest of the day?" He asked, wiping his long fingers meticulously on a white linen napkin.

"Considering I don't know what you do for fun around here-oh wait, I forgot-you watch mortals run the Labyrinth and mess with their heads. I'd prefer to leave that choice event until tomorrow if you don't mind."

"Sarah, Sarah, ever the jokesmith. Don't you know that is my prerogative?" He shot her one of his sharp-toothed grins, the ones, she thought, that made her subconscious picture crocodiles or hyenas or the Cheshire Cat. She had never liked the Cheshire-all teeth and enigma. Come to think of it actually, the Cheshire and Jareth were two of a kind.

She said, suspicion colouring her tone, "I take it you have something in mind?"

"A personal tour of the eastern side of the Labyrinth?" he suggested. "We might run into Hoggle and the rest of your friends. They are still about-" here he made one of his dismissive gestures, "-somewhere, I imagine."

It was tempting, but she had to wonder what exactly was motivating this particular offer. He must have seen the skepticism written on her face because he added after a moment,

"A pledge of good faith?"

She shot him a darkling look from under arched brows.

"A present then?"

Sarah just shook her head in disbelief. "You'd think you would have learned by now that you can't buy my good will with _that_ offer. Really, Goblin King, you must be slipping."

"Goblin King? So formal, Sarah, and here I was getting used to hearing my _name_ on your lips. Even though you tend to _drench_ it with disdain."

"If you don't take care, I'll send out for some bog water and drench _you_ with that. I suggest you take the disdain with good grace."

At her sally, Jareth flung his head back and laughed with genuine amusement. Sarah propped her chin in one hand and watched him. Strange, she thought, it was one of the first times she didn't get the feeling he was acting a part in a play she didn't know she was in. And yet, she thought, _this_ Jareth was even more disconcerting than his imperious Goblin King role.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**O that deceit should dwell**  
**In such a gorgeous palace! (_Romeo and Juliet, _ )**

Whoosh.

Sarah swallowed down the bile in her throat and tried to regain her balance. She became aware of a hand gripping hers rather too tightly. "Ow." She attempted to shake off the hand. It refused to let go. She tried again. This time he released her. Oh. Right. Jareth. She took a shuddering breath and turned on him.

"What the _heck_ was that?" As she spoke her brain was registering the change in her surroundings. Jareth's work room had been exchanged for a Labyrinth court yard.

Another wave of nausea swept over her and Jareth's face blurred for a moment. When he came back into focus, she saw he was looking . . . concerned?

"My apologies, Sarah. I did not anticipate that shifting would involved any discomfort for you."

"Discomfort?" She squeaked. "That was _way_ past discomfort. I thought my insides were becoming my outsides. In fact, I think for a moment there, they were."

"Again, my apologies. You did not experience any discomfort in the transition from your world to this, so I naturally assumed. . ."

By this time Sarah had regained more of her composure and she retorted acidly, "Well, you know what they say about assuming."

He looked at her blankly.

"Stumped, Goblin King?" She laughed-carefully, since her stomach still was roiling with rebellion. "When you assume," she continued, "You make an ass out of you and me."

The sour look on his face at the joke did a lot toward compensating her for the near-agony she had endured in the shift.

"Can we just _walk_ for the rest of the tour? Like normal people?"

"I am not 'normal people,' Sarah," he began, but she interrupted,

"Well, _I_ am and unless you want my breakfast all over your boots, I suggest we walk for a bit. _If_, and that is a big if, we try the shifting thing again, I could do with a warning next time."

"As you wish," he replied teasingly.

Sarah bite her tongue so hard she thought she tasted blood. She saw the look of disappointed chagrin on his face: obviously he had hoped to goad her into saying something rash. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"Are we going anywhere specific or are you planning to throw me to the fireys again?"

He gave her what, in any other person, she would have called a dirty look.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to see something new this time."

"Oh, hurray," she deadpanned, "New homicidal creatures to haunt my dreams. Just what I've always wanted."

"Oh, well, if _that's_ what you want." His lean fingers closed about her left wrist and began pulling her forward at a dead run. Sarah tried to keep up but she lost one her slippers and nearly fell.

"Jareth, Jareth!" She gasped. "Stop! My slipper! Ow!" This last outcry was a result of her simultaneously stubbing her toe on a protruding cobblestone _and_ stepping on a very sharp pebble. Tears sprang into her eyes. "Please!"

Jareth stopped running as abruptly as he had begun.

"Begging will get you nowhere, Sarah," he began, then seeing the single tear rolling down her cheek, his supercilious expression disappeared and he released her wrist. "What's the matter?"

Sarah didn't bother to reply, but began hobbling back for her slipper. She grimaced as she put her foot down. The stone had jabbed her right where the ball of her big toe met her instep and no matter how she positioned her foot, it throbbed. Retrieving her slipper, she collapsed cross-legged on the ground and inspected her foot. A graze on her big toe was oozing blood and there was a bright purple and red spot where the stone had jabbed her.

"Lovely. Just lovely. I'm going to have a doozy of a bruise. I hope you're happy," she remarked as Jareth came up, "Now I get to limp my way to the other side of the Labyrinth to get your stupid Opal."

"Well, I cannot have you accusing me of being _unfair_: allow me to make amends." To her surprise, he knelt on the ground in front of her, took her foot in one hand, and gently touched a finger to the gaze and the stone bruise and-Sarah was so distracted by his fingers on her foot that she almost didn't realize that the injuries were healed. His touch had caused her stomach to flutter rather alarmingly. Jareth took the slipper from her lap and slide it carefully on her foot. Then he took her hands and helped her to rise.

"What a sad excuse for footgear," he remarked, casting a look of aspersion at her moccasin slippers.

"They're slippers."

"A poor choice, if you ask me."

Sarah tried to keep her tone rational and cool. "They are the kind of thing you put on when you aren't expecting to be transported out of your own world into a fantasy."

"How inconvenient." He turned his hand and instead of a crystal appearing, Sarah found herself wearing a pair of serviceable brown leather boots. Her t-shirt and yoga pants had also undergone a sea change, transforming-or being replaced with? She couldn't decide-into a pair of black jeans, a green knit shirt, and fitted brown leather jacket. It was an outfit she might have chosen herself. In fact, she thought, looking closer at the boots and jacket, she _had_.

"Did you just raid my closet?"

"I thought you might prefer your own clothes." His tone was coolly dispassionate, but the thoughtfulness of the act surprised her and she couldn't help smiling at him rather shyly.

"I. . . uh. . .Thank you. Though," here her tone took on a hint of suspicion, "I'd be interested in finding out _how_ you know what clothes I own."

She suddenly noticed that though his face remained mask-like, it was rather pinker than normal. The Goblin King . . . Blushing? Inconceivable.

"Shall we proceed?" He gestured to the path before them.

They did not have to walk far before Sarah recognized where they were. The corridors changed from dressed stone to rough and crumbling brick and then they were in the Labyrinth's outer passages and left the Labyrinth by the gate. Though they walked a good distance along the outer walls, there was no sign of Hoggle. There wasn't time to walk around the entire Labyrinth to find him.

Jareth took her next to the Grove where she was introduced to the dryads. They were nothing like those she had read about in any book. To say that they were human in shape when they left their trees was the extent of it. The dryads in the books could have passed for slightly odd looking humans. These were still trees. Their skin maintained the texture of their bark, their hair-well it wasn't really hair, more like someone had taken a few of their smallest twigs and some moss and made them a hat. Their limbs were gnarled and knotted, and their mouths mere slits in their bark. Sarah thought wryly that these dryads had more in common with Egyptian mummies than living human beings. And there was no way anyone without magic could carry on a conversation with them. They made sounds, which may have been understandable to other trees, but which Sarah found incomprehensible and slightly frightening. It was the noise of wind in the branches, creaking limbs, and leaves rustling. When they all started talking at once, she thought she had suddenly been transported into a forest in the middle of a windstorm. She thought about meeting these creatures in the dark by herself and barely avoided shuddering.

Jareth, of course, had no trouble communicating with them. He stood for some time on the far side of the Grove in conference with two of the largest, and, Sarah guessed, oldest dryads. Sarah amused herself by watching the birds which swooped in and out of the branches. They didn't seem to distinguish between tree and dryad form and perched on any limb they could find. After a few minutes, Jareth concluded his 'conversation' with the dryads and returned across the Grove to Sarah's side.

"Where now?" She asked.

"The Wruens' Lair."

"Lair? That doesn't sound like-"

The passage ahead of them suddenly vanished and Sarah felt the slight lurch which heralded a shift. This time, however, her stomach was unaffected and she didn't feel the inversion of reality which had so disoriented her last time. It startled her though, and, furious, she turned on Jareth.

"I thought you were going to warn me when you were going to. . ." Her voice trailed off as something in the courtyard caught her attention. "Dragons?!"

They were unmistakably dragons. The lean, sinuous bodies, razor-sharp talons, wings, curling tails, _very _sharp looking teeth, hypnotizing, glittering eyes: they couldn't be anything else. At least five of them had noticed the new arrivals, but there were at least that many again which dozed on the rocks and crags of the pit below. And they were huge! Sarah began backing away as the beasts prowled closer. She felt lean fingers close about her shoulder and Jareth said conversationally,

"They're Wruens, Sarah. As long as you don't provoke them, you will be perfectly safe. Right now they are just curious. Stand still and let them see you."

"Do they like to see what they are eating or something?" They were getting closer as she spoken and her voice turned into a squeak of fright. One of them stretched out its neck toward her and Jareth, and Sarah closed her eyes tightly. She didn't want to see what happened when the wruen inevitably decided it wanted her for lunch.

Nothing happened. She cracked open one eye. There was no enormous dragon face in front of her. Instead she felt a moist lick on her hand and nearly screamed with fright. She looked down. Down? The wruen sitting expectantly at her feet was not the huge creature it had been only moments before. It was still a dragon, but it had shrunk down to the size of a large dog. Its head was cocked in a way that reminded of her of Merlin when he wanted a treat. She blinked.

Movement on her right caught her attention and she looked away from the wruen in front of her. Four wruen were fawning and winding around Jareth's legs as he scratched their noses and behind their ears. The others were also smaller, the largest of them only as tall as Jareth's knees. But they had been so _huge_!

A warm, scaly nose pressed into her hand and pulled her gaze back to the creature in front of her. It nudged her hand again and whined plaintively. Without thinking, Sarah began scratching behind its ears.

"You should be flattered. Shalsin doesn't usually take to strangers." Jareth's voice pulled her out of the stunned state of confusion.

"How . . .?" She still could not seem to manage to make her voice cooperate. Her fingers moved to scratch the wruen under its jaw. Shalsin panted and his back end wriggled in ecstatic pleasure. They were like dogs, she realized, little dog-dragons.

"Illusion, Sarah," Jareth explained. "Its part of their magic."

"You let me think-" Her mouth snapped shut when she saw the look her gave her. Shalsin's tail twining around her ankles prevented her from moving, otherwise she would have stalked over there and smacked the arrogant, self-satisfied smirk off of his face.

They left the wruens after about half an hour. Sarah had gotten to know the other wruens by name, but none of them had been as friendly as Shalsin. They all obviously adored Jareth and followed him about, getting under his and Sarah's feet. It was infuriating that the creatures were so eager for his attentions. He gloated about it too-and at how he had managed to scare her so thoroughly. She resolved to do her best to cut him down to size.

She wondered suddenly where the wruens' magic came from. Surely even the power for illusions had to come from somewhere. She refused to cater to his ego and ask him.

They walked down passages and through various courtyards, Jareth pointing out various landmarks and introducing her to those creatures of the Labyrinth which they encountered. Eventually, after he mentioned a third creature's magical ability, her curiosity got the better of her and she asked him about it.

"Everything in the Labyrinth has some sort of magic," he answered, "It's the nature of this place."

"Where does it come from?"

"The same place as mine does," he replied seriously. "The Labyrinth."

She was about to question him further, when she noticed he had stopped walking. His head tilted as though he were listening to something or someone Sarah couldn't hear, and then he said,

"I'm afraid the rest of our tour will have to wait. I have something to attend to. You should stay in this section while I'm gone. Don't wander too far though," he warned, "I won't be able to pull you out of any oubliettes or snake pits for the next while."

"Snake pits?" She asked, her eyes starting. "That was an option?" But he was already gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad. (**_**Romeo and Juliet**_**, I.i)**

Typical Jareth, she thought as she wandered the passages. Say something cryptic and leave. It kind of summed up their relationship. She frowned. Relationship? The word carried connotations that were at once too intimate _and _too pedestrian for what was going on between them. Going on. She laughed softly at the thought. What was going on, anyway? She wondered and came to the conclusion that the answer was everything and nothing. They weren't friends or lovers, but not precisely enemies either. Rivals? No. Although, they _were_ opponents in this strange game.

Antagonists, she decided, that's what they were. Brought together by conflict. It was really the only thing which joined them. The thought somehow made her sad. What happened when the conflict was over? There would be nothing left. Like the last time. Only, she acknowledged, there _had_ been something left. A silly hang-up that she had somehow nurtured into . . . love? No, that couldn't possibly be possible. She didn't know him well enough for it to be love. And yet, oh the irony, in the short time since they had met again, she had _felt_ more deeply than she had in fifteen years.

She wondered suddenly what his life was like here when he wasn't taking children and challenging their wishers to run the Labyrinth. What did he do in the down times? When business was slack, so to speak? That made her wonder further: How many people wished children away to the Goblin King nowadays? People didn't tend to invoke beings out of fairy tales anymore. It must be very boring being a mostly forgotten boogeyman. No wonder he took the opportunity to fight/flirt with her. It would be very . . . lonely. She shook off the thought.

_Next thing, I know, I'm going to feel compassion for the Goblin King. Just what I need to maintain the strength of mind to win again this time. _

She turned her attention forcibly to other things. He had said that all the magic, including his, came from the Labyrinth. She wondered how exactly that worked. Could _she_, for instance, somehow get access to it? For some reason the thought made her feel _watched_. Now _that_ was obviously ridiculous. She wi-no, she definitely did not do _that_. All at once, she remembered what Jareth had said when he appeared in her apartment. "_No wish. No answer._" And just before that he had said,

"_I wouldn't be here if you hadn't wished me here_. I couldn't be."

He _couldn't_ come to her world without a wish. She had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Did the inverse hold true also? Did he _have_ to go if someone wished?

"He _does_." The sound of her own voice startled her back to reality.

She looked around. Where was she?

During the time when she had been walking, the Labyrinth walls had changed from the dressed stone which made up the bulk of its corridors to dark yew hedges, nine feet tall and so dense that even when she attempted to move branches and look through them, she couldn't even see light coming from the other side.

"Good job, Sarah," she muttered. "So much for avoiding the aforementioned snake pits. How are you going to that when you don't even know where you are?"

She sighed gustily. She put her hands on her hips and tried to decide what to next. Should she go forward or back the way she'd come? The castle had been west of their position when she'd last seen it. The thing was she couldn't see it over the hedges and there were no handy rocks or ledges to stand on. She looked up at the sky. The sun was almost directly overhead. Not helpful for determining directions in the least.

Well, the Wise One _had_ said that the way back was sometimes the way forward. She'd attempt to retrace her steps and maybe become unlost before Jareth returned.

The plan worked well until she came to a point where the passage divided into not just two but three identical paths, all of which looked harmless and ordinary. One to the left, one to the right, and one straight ahead.

"So much for the road less travelled," she quipped.

In the end she decided to take the passage directly in front of her. The path of least resistance, she figured, made the most sense. She probably would have walked in a straight line. At least she hoped that she had.

About fifteen minutes later, it looked like she had made the right choice. The stone walls were back and she arrived in a courtyard which looked like the one she and Jareth had rested in earlier. She was just congratulating herself, when she encountered another of Jareth's trap doors.

The last one had sent her and Hoggle to the Bog of Stench, but this one led, inevitably, to the snake pit. The cave was dimly lit by beams of light coming through the cracks in the pavement above. Luckily, its inhabitants were presently somewhere above ground, probably sunning themselves, but Sarah knew that this particular pit belonged to them by the shed skins and other signs of snake habitation.

"And I was doing so well," she sighed.

She walked the circumference of the pit. No exits. None that were human-sized anyway. And there was no Hoggle to come to the rescue with a convenient magic door either.

She wondered how long it would be until the snakes started coming home. It was about midday, so she hoped that she had a few hours at least before she had to contend with them. Would they be poisonous or just numerous? How big were they? Some of the holes in the walls looked alarmingly large. Of course, the snakes didn't _have_ to be as big as the holes, but the possibility existed. She wondered how long she would have to wait to find out.

She found a raised spot well away from the majority of the holes and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest. At least, she thought, she was wearing boots. If the snakes were apt to bite, she was at least somewhat protected.

Time passed. Slowly, the pit became more and more dim as the sunlight shifted and shadows from the walls lengthened in the courtyard above. Eventually it was almost pitch black. Sarah resigned herself to becoming intimately acquainted with the pit's inhabitants.

A shift in the air currents alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. She stared wildly about her, straining to see what had entered the pit. Her heart thumped in her throat.

"Once again I am required to save you from the consequences of your folly." Jareth's voice came out of the darkness and she started as his fingers circled her wrist in a steely grip.

She didn't complain when they shifted out of the pit and into the sunlight. At least this time, she got her stomach back in control with a couple deep breaths.

"I thought I told you to stay where you were." Jareth's face was grimmer than she'd ever seen it.

_Oh boy_, she thought, _tact would be wise right now_. However, while she was thinking that, her mouth went ahead and replied for her.

"I was going to, I promise. But I got to thinking." _Dammit._

"What has that got to do with not staying put?" It was obvious that he was just getting more irritated with her.

"When I think, I walk," she explained, "And I don't always keep track of where I'm going. Which is why I tend to pace inside-at least there I only walk into furniture and not into traffic."

She realized that her explanation was doing nothing to clear the anger from his face.

"I'm sorry, truly, I am," she said, her hands open in a gesture of apology, "But what's done is done."

He sighed.

She noticed that he looked tired. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Silence.

She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Jareth."

He inclined his head, but said, "Follow this path west and it will take you straight back to the castle. If," his voice became sharply sarcastic, "you can manage not to get lost." With that, he vanished.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? (**_**Measure for Measure**_**, )**

Sarah arrived back at the castle just as the sun was setting. Its rays slanted across the Labyrinth's walls and like Midas turned them to gold at a touch. She stood in the window of Jareth's workroom and looked out over the landscape. Funny, she thought, she had never seen an Underground sunset. She had been present for an Underground sunrise, but had been so distracted with beating the Labyrinth and getting Toby back that she hadn't taken the time to watch.

She had missed a lot of things, it seemed, when she was here last. She had missed more when she had left. She tore her mind away from following up on that thought. She didn't have time to moon over the Goblin King; she had to beat him again. No sense in sabotaging herself with emotional baggage. She would fight fire with fire. If he chose to be cynical and sarcastic, she would meet him on his own terms.

"Tell me, Sarah: what do you think of my labyrinth now?"

He had appeared behind her silently and she had to suppress the impulse to jump. Her irritation at being startled by him-again- added bite to her voice as she replied, "_Your _Labyrinth? Are you sure that you aren't _its_ Goblin King?"

He frowned. "What am I supposed to understand by that remark?"

She shrugged, "From what you say, you seem more its servant than its ruler. It will do your bidding, but only if you obey its will."

"Are you implying that I am a mere puppet?" He stepped closer to intimidate her and the distinctive intoxicating spice of him made her head swim momentarily. _Get a grip, Sarah_, she admonished herself. _Fight fire with fire._ She raised an innocent face to his and smiled gently.

"If the shoe fits..."

She saw his shoulders tense in annoyance and a warm feeling of triumph swept through her. He was not immune. He could be nettled. This could be fun.

"It is merely the conditions of the magic. Besides, true kings _are_ servants of their country, not despots."

"You could have fooled me."

She almost heard his teeth grinding together as he growled, "Are you deliberately trying to infuriate me?"

"Could I?" She inquired sweetly.

"You know very well that you could, have, and _are_!"

"Oh dear, I thought I was just playing your _game, _Jareth_. _You're the one who decided the rules."

The anger that swept his face startled her into taking a step back, a retreat she immediately regretted, since it brought her up against the back of the sofa which sat just behind her facing the room. Jareth was no fool and he knew when to press home his attack. In two quick strides he had crossed the space between them and trapped her between himself and the sofa.

"You will pay for your provocation," he hissed. He looked down at her with an expression Sarah couldn't quite pin down. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, and then he smiled. Only it wasn't so much a smile as a baring of his teeth. Sarah knew then the feeling of a mouse trapped by a cat. Her heart beat in her throat. Spurred by a rogue impulse, she tilted her head and kissed the only part of him she could reach-his chin.

She heard his breath catch, then his hands gripped her arms and he held her a little apart from him.

She could feel an expression as old as Eve creeping over her face as she saw the desire in his eyes.

"Witch."

His voice was husky, and it slid into her ear and hummed there. Her stomach felt fluttery and her knees were threatening to betray her. Oh boy, this wasn't the kind of fire she had been counting on.

"Cheat," she retorted softly.

"Ever rebellious, Sarah? Look at me." A single finger tilted her face back to his.

Against her will she blushed.

His other hand found hers and raised it to his lips. He kissed each finger tip, his eyes never leaving hers, then tucked a kiss in her palm. Sarah felt her toes curling in reaction to his touch. She felt as though she was suffocating, her breath coming shallow and fast. He gave her other hand the same treatment. By this point, she was squirming.

He dropped a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, then began to pepper her jaw and neck with nibbling little kisses. Her hands found their way around his neck.

"Is this what you consider 'teaching me a lesson'?"

His lips curled against her throat.

"Exacting retribution, my dear. Reparations for damages incurred."

"I see." As he worked his way across her collar bones, she continued, her breath catching, "I don't suppose there's a payment plan you could offer me? With easy installments?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I ... didn't think so." Trying to distract him, she started tracing circles on the back of his neck with an index finger and his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Oh no, you don't," he said, raising his head. "No guerrilla tactics allowed." He kissed her full on the mouth-_finally_, she thought, and then she thought she was just going to dissolve into a puddle right there. Her knees shook and only his arms around her kept her from sliding off the back of the sofa. Things were getting rather more than heated, when suddenly she felt him tense and he lifted his head.

"Damn, someone's wishing." He raised a hand and gently brushed an errant strand of her hair back behind her ear. "We'll continue this . . . conversation . . . later."

Sarah smiled and pulled his head down to hers for a light, tantalizing kiss. "If you say so."

His embrace tightened for one brief moment, but then he pulled himself out of her arms and resolutely stepped away.

As he faded out of the room, she saw the expression of unholy frustration on his face and knew it was mirrored on her own.

"Are your strings suddenly chafing, o Goblin King?" She whispered, wry amusement colouring her tone. "Such a pity."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. (**_**Love's Labours Lost, **_** )**

Kissing her had been a mistake. A lovely, highly enjoyable mistake-on both occasions-but a mistake nevertheless. If it weren't for the fact that she had most definitely enjoyed it as well, he would have wished-ha-it had never happened. Too bad he didn't learn from his mistakes as quickly as he should. Still, it was a mistake he didn't intend to make again-if-and here a gusty breath escaped his lips-if he could at all help it. The thing was, with Sarah he didn't seem to be _able_ to help it.

In one day, she had added an indefinable spice to his life. He enjoyed teasing her and making her blush. That way she had of looking at him, wide-eyed and naïve, full of shocked innocence . . . He grinned. She hadn't changed much, despite the sharper edge to her tongue. His perpetual boredom, he realized, had dissipated as soon as he had felt her summons.

She was damn irritating though. Getting herself stuck in the snake pit and needing to be rescued. Too bad he couldn't have sent Hoggle again, but he hadn't wanted to take the time to locate him. Of course, she hadn't been in any real danger, since the snakes had abandoned that particular lair some time previously, but she didn't need to know that. At least, she had had the grace to be ashamed and had even apologized for not taking his advice.

He recalled once again the way she had nestled into his arms in her bed. She really was a darling. He could feel the beginnings of the emotions he had endeavoured to suppress all these years trying to slide their way out from the mental oubliette where he had stuffed them. Damn, he was getting soft. The Goblin King avoided the tenderer emotions-only hard cynicism and mockery for him. He wasn't opposed to a seduction, but only if it were a one-sided affair and he the winner.

Strangely, however, he didn't want that kind of thing with Sarah. He wanted her smiling sleepily in his arms, her hair dark again his pillow. With a slam, he was filled an overwhelming sense of guilt. How dare she-no, he had to admit. She wasn't to blame. How could she possibly make him feel guilty for thinking something she didn't even know he was thinking? It was his own choice to deceive her. He hadn't even the pretence of a real hold on her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in attempt to quell his misgivings.

She just. . . made him feel things. Feel. That was not a word he had used in-he didn't want to think about how long it had been. No, actually he knew exactly when he had used it last. All that time ago when a whining teenager had wished her baby brother away and then tried to renege on her wish. She had looked at him with her frank green eyes and said the words which had somehow exacerbated his loneliness. _You have no power over me. _

He hadn't realized until then what her victory would mean for him. He had wanted her to win. Had engineered it so that it would be dead easy. All she had to do was follow the script-she knew it almost word for word, after all-and she would win her brother back. He had been the Goblin King in her little book. Fit her expectations to the letter.

All except the crystal dream. That had been his own insertion. He had yearned for human contact and the dream had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was one thing which made the whole bearable and yet unbearable afterward. It had haunted him. The memory of holding her, promising her-foolishly-everything. He could have ruined everything with that little stunt. If she hadn't been so stubbornly focused on saving Toby, he probably would have.

The contrast Sarah made with so many of the runners he had encountered was stark. Take this last who had so inconveniently interrupted their kiss. The child's mother hadn't even bothered to hesitate before accepting his crystal, the crystal that would ensure she forgot her child had ever existed. That was her dream. To forget her little boy. The child hadn't deserved to be transformed into a goblin. Most of them did not. There was the occasional child who had been all the better for becoming a goblin, but truly horrid children were really few and far between.

Losing Sarah this time. . . He didn't want to think about it. However, could he somehow persuade her to stay? The way she had kissed him-but that was not enough. She was a rational woman and eminently practical beneath the veneer of absentminded dawdling. She would never choose lust over love. He had seen her interactions with the various men she had dated. None of their blandishments had succeeded in persuading her to do anything she didn't choose.

Thirteen days.

Jareth sighed and dropped his head into his hands in flat despair.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day. (**_**Troilus and Cressida**_**, )**

The room she had been given, Sarah noticed, looked out over the eastern portion of the Labyrinth. So Jareth wasn't going to give her even the opportunity to study the western quadrant beforehand. Well, she supposed that was fair. Besides, she thought, if it were anything like the last time the Labyrinth was bound to change as she passed through, so seeing it now really wouldn't give her much of an advantage.

She sat on the window seat for a while looking out into the dark. The stars here were so bright. She was struck by the notion that if she were only tall enough she'd be able stretch out a hand and pluck one from the sky.

She thought back over the events of the day and the first lines of a poem she had read in English Lit began echoing through her brain: _Ah__, Love, but a day / And the world has changed!_

To think only yesterday afternoon she had been sitting in a café with Emily, talking about Rob. Well, to tell the truth she had been trying _not_ to talk about Rob. Strange, she couldn't even muster up the memory of his face. She thought that she could remember an vague impression of him, but the details were strangely blurred.

So unlike the way that the Goblin King's features had been irredeemably burned onto her consciousness. She just had to close her eyes and she could see him in full Technicolor. Glaring, usually. Or looking at her in a way that even in memory made her heart beat faster. Funny, she had always thought that particular phrase was a bit cheesy. Nothing and no one had ever given her the flutters. Until now.

With a jolt she was catapulted back into re-living the events in Jareth's work room. Even the memory sent delicious shivers running across her skin. What on earth had she been thinking?

"Stupid, Sarah, stupid, stupid, stupid!"

She could still feel his lips caressing her neck. And then when he had kissed her- She took a deep breath and attempted to banish the memory of how Jareth's mouth had felt on hers.

Then, resolutely, she kept her mind blank and got ready for bed.

Trying to sleep was an exercise in futility, she decided an hour or so later. She lay there in the dark, staring up at the canopy above her head. In the dim moonlight, she could just make out the embroidered constellations worked in silver and gold thread into the tapestry. She wondered what the groups of stars were called. Did they have myths attached to them like those in at home?

The constellation above her began to swirl, slowly at first, but picking up speed in an alarmingly fashion. It seemed to advance toward her and Sarah realized that she was somehow falling upwards (or was it down?) into the vortex forming above her.

_The garden she stood in was bright in the moonlight, so bright that the hedges surrounding it cast long, crisp lines across the lawn. Little white and silver flowers were sprinkled like stardust in the short grass and glowed faintly in the shadows under the trees. _

_Sarah found herself standing beside a sundial in the centre of an Elizabethan knot garden. She noted that the shadow on the dial lay across the one. _

_Movement under the trees caught her attention. A woman in a silver grey gown emerged from the shadows and moved lightly across the lawn toward her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore a silver coronet. With a sinking feeling, Sarah recognized, once again, herself. _

_The other Sarah smiled, the same predatory smile as before. _

_"Kissing the Goblin King, Sarah?" She remarked, her voice silky, but charged with enmity. "How unwise. Don't you know there are terrible consequences for such blasphemy? He doesn't belong to you." _

_Sarah tried to reply, but her mouth would not cooperate. The other woman laughed at her consternation and continued, _

_"Oh yes, he's _mine_, Sarah, mine forever. And I cannot allow you to be seducing his attentions. Oh no, that will never do." _

_The woman had been moving ever closer as she spoke and Sarah found herself moving backward, step by step. Then suddenly the other woman reached out and caught her by the wrist._

_"You shall never have him," she hissed. And then she let go. _

_Sarah was falling, falling, falling. Would nobody catch her?! The water was closing in around her, her lungs burned, ached to breathe, but she couldn't get her feet to move. She fought to reach the surface, but something was pulling her down deeper and deeper. She tried to call_ his _name, but her mouth filled with water and then everything went black. _

Sarah! Sarah! Wake up!

With a sobbing gasp, she sat bolt upright in bed. Sunlight streamed across the floor and up onto the bed. She blinked and looked around. The room was empty. But hadn't someone had been shaking her awake? Maybe she had dreamed it.

She took a deep breath and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.

It was time to start running.

After a quick wash, Sarah dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before. They were a bit dusty from her adventure in the snake pit, but it wasn't as if she had a choice. Jareth hadn't provided her with anything else. At some point a tray with cheese and toast had appeared on the table in her room. So, she thought, she wasn't going to breakfast with the Goblin King again. She supposed it was just as well. Meeting Jareth across something as intimate as the breakfast table might have weakened her resolve even farther.

Half an hour later she discovered that she needn't have been worried about her resolve. Jareth was a egotistical, conceited, narcissistic bastard and she hated him!

Jareth's face when she entered the throne room was mask-like, but his eyes glinted with mockery. He lounged negligently in his chair, surrounded-for the first time since Sarah had returned Underground-by his goblins. She hadn't realized until that moment that she hadn't seen even one of the creatures the day before. _What was that about?_ She wondered. _Was there a reason they had stayed away or had they been there the whole time, just keeping out of sight? _

"I trust you slept well," he said. The commonplace was rather incongruous coming from the Goblin King.

Sarah snapped, "I would tell you if I thought you truly cared." She was herself surprised by the bitterness in her tone, and she saw the anger flare momentarily in Jareth's eyes and then the mocking glint returned.

"Bad dreams, Sarah? How sad."

"I would like to get started on this quest of yours," she said coldly. "Please tell me where the Opal is so I can be on my way."

Instead of answering her, Jareth rose from the throne and came across the room toward her.

"Forget the quest, Sarah. I have an alternate offer to make you."

She glared at him suspiciously, "And that would be?"

"Stay here with me and be my consort."

She gaped at him. Finally, managing to overcome her shock, she asked, "What _ever_ made you think that such an offer would ever be palatable to me?"

All he did was look at her from under a raised brow, but it brought back to her the memory of his lips on hers. The way his hands had-She drew a deep breath and added,

"I don't believe for one second that you would make good on such an offer."

As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. It implied that she would possibly consider the offer if he proved she _could_ trust him. She saw that he had the same thought. In fact, he was practically purring with self-satisfaction when he replied,

"Come, come, Sarah. Have I not proven that I keep my promises? Have you no faith at all in my word?"

"None whatsoever! You bend anything you possibly can to suit yourself."

"Harpy." His amusement at her discomfiture was plain.

"Lout!"

"Lout?" He questioned. "Really? Is that the best you can come up with? I may be many things, but a lout is not among them. Satyr? Unquestionably. Cheat? Possibly. But lout? Absolutely not. Of course, I would be quite willing to-" here his lips quirked with a suggestive smile, "-inspire you to discover more appropriate appellations."

"You're disgusting."

Jareth shook his head. "Tch, tch, tch. So unimaginative. However," his voice took on an even silkier quality than usual. "Enough with the name-calling. We have other things to discuss."

"Such as?" She inquired. He was getting very close indeed and she found it difficult to keep eye contact with him.

"Do not pretend that you do not entertain certain feelings for me, Sarah. Had we not been so inconveniently interrupted, we both know where our actions last night would have led."

"Excuse me?" Sarah pretended ignorance, but she could feel the embarrassment begin rising. It would have been bad enough, his making these kinds of comments, had they been alone, but in front of the goblins. . . She hoped they were stupid enough not to catch on to what he was implying.

His voice in her ear made her jump. "Don't play coy, Sarah. Your . . . response was unmistakable. Very gratifying indeed, the way you pressed yourself against me so urgently. And here I was, thinking you didn't like me."

Sarah felt her bile rising and regretted eating quite as much cheese and toast. He made their kiss sound like some lewd exchange, some sordid encounter in the night. Was this his idea of revenge?

As he watched her, his smirk had taken on that feral quality she remembered from her last trip, his pointed eyeteeth particularly pronounced. It was his Cheshire grin and she could hardly keep from smacking it off his face. He leaned in close again and his whisper hummed in her ear in a most disconcerting way.

"There is only one, inevitable, conclusion to this particular dance."

"And that is?" she asked, barely able to keep her voice from betraying the effect his proximity was having on her. She hated that he could make her feel this way without even trying.

"Queen or no, I will have you in my bed when the music ends."

She rounded on him, eyes blazing with green fire.

"_Never!_"

His response to that was sharp, mocking laughter. His goblins joined in and Sarah felt shame rush over her in a flood. Her face burned.

"Give up, Sarah." As he spoke he circled around her, forcing her to turn dizzily to keep him in view.

"I won't!"

"Such petulance, Sarah. Surely you want to embellish this display of childish obstinacy with a foot stomp or two?"

"I am _not_ being childish."

He barked a short laugh and said patronizingly, "Of _course_ not. Sarah Williams _never_ throws temper tantrums when she doesn't get her way."

"You're wasting my time, Jareth. Are you going to tell me where to find this Opal of yours or not?" She demanded, turning the subject back to her original question.

"You would do best to remember that I am King here, Sarah, and address me as such."

"Oh, but pardon _me_, your _Majesty._ Pray tell me, where is this Opal which I am to retrieve for you, your _Majesty_? Or is that information which your _Majesty_ considers confidential?"

Jareth didn't reply, but instead prowled back to stand on the dais of his throne, the picture of cool, taunting elegance. His eyes flickered up and down her for several moments and she felt her nails biting into her palms. His eyes seemed to strip her and she felt the angry flush on her cheese deepen. She did her best to match him stare for stare. Then finally, he said, a disdainful smile on his face,

"Just admit it: You'll never defeat me again. And I will have you, one way or another. You're no match for me, Sarah."

"How much do you wanna bet?" She said, keeping her voice frigid despite her rage. "I will find your stupid Opal on my own, I will beat you again, and I will make you eat those words, you arrogant son of a bitch!"

The Goblin King's mocking laughter followed her as she turned on her heel and strode down the passage.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

**I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away. (**_**Much Ado About Nothing**_**, II.i)**

"Oh crap!"

Sarah threw herself across the gaping hole which had suddenly appeared in the path before her.

The Labyrinth was definitely being more malicious this time around; she had been battling various manifestations of its-or Jareth's?-displeasure ever since she had stormed out of the Castle. From falling rocks, to gaping pits such as this one, to virulent swarms of biting fairies, and rampantly growing vines which seemed to be abnormally attracted to warmth-all in all she was already thinking with nostalgia of the day fifteen years ago when all she had encountered was riddling doors, helping hands, and the Bog of Stench.

A pair of pillars began sliding together up ahead, with the aim, it seemed, of blocking her into the passage. She'd be trapped there, she realized, since the pit behind her had crumbled farther as she had jumped it. She ran for the gap in the wall at full speed and only just squeezed through before the pillars slammed together.

Sarah gulped. "Shee-ee-eesh, that was a bit close. This is taking 'Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered' a little too seriously."

A vision of Jareth urging her to give up flashed across her mind's eye; she squared her shoulders and set her jaw and marched forward.

She arrived, hungry, battered and exhausted, at the Western Gate just at sunset at the first day. Dusk fell quickly in the Labyrinth and she found a protected niche to curl up in for the night. There was no sense in trying to find the Opal in the dark. She'd be more likely to find more of Jareth's lovely trap doors and snake pits-or worse.

During the day the Labyrinth was, despite its excessive activity, mostly silent; however, at night it became amazingly full of creaks and rumblings and squeaks and hissing, not to mention ominous skittering sounds. Sarah huddled in her corner, trying not to let her imagination run away with her. She had to get some sleep or she'd be in no shape for tomorrow. She curled up against the wall, tucked her cold hands inside her jacket, and attempted to relax. 'Attempted' being the operative word.

The problem was, the moment she began to doze, some nighttime noise would jolt her to heart-thumping wakefulness. The fourth or fifth time this happened, she glared into the darkness and hissed right back. She wouldn't put it past Jareth to engineer such goings-on. Psychological warfare was just up his alley, in fact.

The only good thing about not properly sleeping, she decided somewhere in the freezing pre-dawn hours, was not dreaming that horrible dream again. She wasn't sure if it was worth the cost. Time dragged past. She shivered in the darkness and waited wearily for the morning.

When dawn finally arrived, Sarah emerged from her niche and stretched-and cursed prolifically. Apparently her exertions of the previous day had taken a larger toll on her than she had anticipated. She felt as though her body had suddenly turned into that of an eighty year old woman. Almost every muscle ached and, when she answered nature's call, she discovered that her legs were covered with bruises and abrasions.

"Great," she commented as she inspected the damage, "I look like a bleeding Picasso, from his Black and Blue period. We'll hope we don't add too much more to the collection today. Ah well, _Excelsior!_"

Day Two saw the Labyrinth being just as ill-tempered as Day One. This time, however, Sarah was able to anticipate most of the more malevolent attacks. After a particularly nasty encounter with a thorn bush, however, she was beginning to get rather tired of the Labyrinth. The thorn bush had left a long and rather deep scratch down her cheek. She washed the worst of the blood off and tried to take stock of what resources she had.

Knowledge was about the extent of it: she was beginning to know the Labyrinth's more extreme methods for dealing with runners. Water was a problem: she didn't trust any of the obvious water sources she encountered. Who knew whether or not they were connected to the Bog of Stench or had some other magical properties? Turning into a goblin or getting fatally sick with dysentery or something else horrific was not how Sarah hoped this quest would end. She had made do up until now with water she had found collected in hollowed out rocks, but she knew she couldn't depend on that. However, food was going to be the real difficulty. She hadn't really had to worry about food the last time-_other than that oh so hallucinatory peach episode_-but now, the last food she had eaten had been early yesterday morning and in her nervousness, she hadn't eaten all that much.

Well, she finally decided, she'd just have to find that Opal today and get back to the castle as soon as possible. She'd managed without food before this, that time she'd had that nasty three day flu, for example.

A few hours later she sat down on a stone bench, hungry and discouraged. There was no sign of the stupid Labyrinth Opal! Jareth had said she shouldn't have any trouble finding it, but she was starting to kick herself for believing him. The Goblin King had a way of twisting the truth to his own ends.

"And how," Jareth's obscenely cheerful voice arrived a split-second before he did, "is Sarah faring today? Sleep well, my dear?"

He stood at the other end of the bench, leaning on one booted leg and wearing a rather supercilious grin. She turned her head to look at him and he straightened abruptly, stepped in front of her, and took her chin in one hand. His eyes narrowed with displeasure as they rested on the scratch running down the side of her face and his voice was pure ice.

"What did that to you?"

"Oh, I wonder?" She said, pulling her face away from his probing fingers and standing up. "Maybe the same thing that did this-" She showed him her abraded palms,"-and this-" the fairy bites on her wrists, "-and most especially this." She ended by pulling aside her collar and showing him the bruises that encircled her neck from the strangler vine which had attempted to make Sarah a permanent feature of the Labyrinth.

She looked at him accusingly and was going to continue in the same vein, but the fury written on his face silenced her. Was he possibly surprised that his pet Labyrinth had been mauling her?

"Wait here," he ordered and vanished.

Just before he returned a while later, Sarah had almost decided to leave and keep searching for the Opal. Something in Jareth's voice had warned her, however, that he might not be best pleased if she disobeyed his command. Not that that had ever stopped her before, but Jareth was more angry than she'd ever seen him and she was not really in prime fighting condition at the moment. She was tired and hungry and thirsty and dirty, all her injuries throbbed, and right now the mere thought of arguing with His Glittery Majesty was exhausting.

His face when he returned was still tight with anger, but his eyes seemed to soften a little when he handed her a small pot.

"Here," he said, "Put this on your wounds."

"What is it?" She opened it and dubiously smelled the green ointment. It smelled like lavender and something else slightly medicinal.

"Comfrey salve. It will help to heal your injuries and should ease the pain."

She began dabbing the salve on the cuts on her hands and then attempted to apply it to the cut on her face. It was tricky without a mirror. Jareth had been content to watch her efforts, but when she winced for the second time, he swore impatiently and took the pot from her hand and applied it himself. He was extremely careful and when he had finished with the cut, commanded her to pull back her collar and gently applied the salve to the bruises on her neck as well.

"Anywhere else?" He asked tersely, as she readjusted her shirt and tried to get her breathing back under control again. Jareth's ministrations had played merry hell with her equilibrium.

"No, thank you," she replied.

He looked at her with sceptical expression. "The truth, Sarah."

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but nowhere _you_ are ever going to see."

At that he laughed and his face lost some of its frozen quality. "Are you _quite_ sure?"

"Positive."

He chuckled. "I will take pleasure in disproving that." His face turned serious again. "I'm afraid that the Labyrinth has been a bit more zealous in its dissuasions than I realized. I must beg your pardon for your injuries, Sarah."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his and found that he looked truly apologetic. She nodded her acceptance, then smiled wryly and commented, "You might make it up to me by telling me where I can find this Opal of yours. I've been searching this section for hours and I've come up with diddly-squat."

His expression turned suddenly sheepish.

"What?" She demanded. "What rig are you running now?"

"No rig, I assure you. The thing is, I neglected to tell you that the Opal isn't actually _in_ the Labyrinth."

"What?!"

"You did not honestly think I would give you thirteen days just to cross the Labyrinth and return? Why would I give you so much time for such a trivial journey? You made it through both the north and east quadrants in less than a day. Why would you need thirteen _days_ for the Western quadrant? Oh, no, the Labyrinth Opal is held in a shrine on the edge of the forest beyond the plain which lies outside the Western Gate."

"Beyond the plain?" Sarah felt stunned. She should have known he would pull something like this. Here she had been spent the last few hours looking for the Opal inside the Labyrinth, nearly getting strangled for her trouble, and the whole time she wasn't even close. What a colossal waste of time!

Her anger must have shown on her face, since Jareth raised his hands in a gesture of apology, saying,

"If you hadn't stormed out of the castle so precipitously, I would have told you before you set out."

Sarah felt the boiling rage rising in her chest.

"Oh no," she spat, "You do _not_ get to pin the blame for this on me! This is _your_ _fault. _If you hadn't been such an insensitive jerk, _none_ of this would ever have happened. Tell me what this _shrine_ looks like and how I'm supposed to get there and _then get out of my sight, Jareth_!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The **

**transgression is in the stealer. (**_**Much Ado About Nothing**_**, II.i)**

Once Jareth had given her the directions and had disappeared, Sarah sat down on the bench and relieved her lacerated nerves with a good cry. As she sat there, hiccupping and sniffing in the aftermath, she _almost_ wished aloud for a box of tissues. Her sleeves were not great substitutes and her hands were covered with slightly greasy salve. She dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket and was surprised to find a clean white cotton handkerchief in the left pocket.

She looked at it suspiciously. She had never carried a handkerchief in her life, _and_, she suddenly remembered, her pockets had been completely empty earlier when she searched for something to wipe the blood off her face after her tangle with the thorn bush. She glared at the white square.

"If Jareth thinks that giving me a measly little handkerchief is going to make up for the shitty way he has been treating me, he can forget it," she informed it crossly. Then she wiped her eyes and blew her nose and set off for the Western Gate.

She encountered zero resistance from the Labyrinth and reached the gate in much less time than she had expected. It was almost as though it was waiting for her to arrive because it opened of its own accord when she approached. Sarah didn't pause to question it, but stepped on through and surveyed the vast plain which stretched out before her.

Follow the path, Jareth had said. She looked at the faint trail that ran through the tall grass toward the western horizon and grimaced.

"Well, feet, time to get moving."

By mid-afternoon, she was having trouble ignoring the hunger. Last time she'd been finished running the Labyrinth inside ten hours and hadn't really had time to think too much about being hungry.

This time, however, it was rather more difficult. Walking along an open plain with no company to distract her and the only thing to look at the grass and the sky-well, it wasn't very distracting. She was resting in the tiny patch of shade afforded by a lonely stunted tree, when Jareth faded into view on the path.

"Oh," she said, her displeasure evident in her voice, "It's you."

He smiled slightly. "Miss me?"

"I really haven't had the time," she replied wearily. She had begun feeling faint and rather dizzy in the last hour or so and Jareth's attempt at banter was quite _under_whelming. She pushed herself up off the ground and swayed, only a little, but enough that he noticed. She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him.

"Hungry, Sarah?"

"Not at all," she lied.

"Truly?" He asked. "So a basket of ham sandwiches, apples, and cider would be completely unwelcome?"

"Quite."

Her stomach chose that moment to growl audibly.

"At least your stomach tells the truth," Jareth laughed. The basket in question suddenly popped into existence on the ground in front of her and she nearly stumbled over it. She glared at him.

"Come now, Sarah, sit down. Eat."

"How do I know it's not drugged?"

"You had no problem eating the breakfast I left in your room yesterday morning," he commented. "What makes you think that I would start feeding you drugged sandwiches now?"

Sarah refused to answer. Their last conversation sprang to mind. How could she possibly trust him after what he had done?

Jareth sighed. "The food is neither drugged or poisoned. Here, I'll prove it to you." He pulled back the linen cloth with covered the basket and pulled out a thick ham sandwich. Sarah could smell the smoky cured ham and the butter and the fresh bread and. . . She felt her mouth watering. Jareth took a bite of the sandwich and chewed with relish. "Delicious," he pronounced. "Have some." He held the sandwich out to her.

"There's no proof in that," she protested. "After all, you could just counteract any poison with your magic."

Jareth shrugged. "Your choice." Then both he and the basket vanished.

Sarah fell to her knees and squeezed her eyes tightly shut to stop the tears of hunger and frustration from rolling down her cheeks.

An hour later, she was contemplating eating some of the grass which lined the path. It would fill her aching stomach and surely it had to have some nutritive value? After all, cows and horses managed on it. She stopped walking and stood looking at a particularly lush patch of green.

"Grass as a food source is highly over-rated."

The chuckle came out of nowhere, and Sarah jumped and screeched, "Stop doing that!"

She whirled round to find Jareth lounging on a convenient rock a few feet away. Had, she wondered suddenly as she tried get her heartbeat back under control, that rock been there before? Or had he magicked it there just so that he could casually lean on it?

"What _aquiline_ accents!" He commented and then, to her surprise, recited Titania's lines to Bottom:

_"I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:_

_Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;  
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;  
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me  
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee."_

He had begun the speech in a teasing manner, but his voice and face had turned unusually sincere as he came to the end. Their eyes met and held and Sarah felt as though some strange energy ran between them. She felt her heart flutter in her throat. Jareth's eyes took on an arrested expression and he took a step toward her. Sarah found herself staring up into his hypnotic, mismatched eyes, and saw his glance flicker to her mouth. Her's somehow, without her volition, followed suit, and Jareth's head bent closer and-her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Both of them blinked and looked away.

Sarah's eye fell upon the basket. She walked over and picked it up, pulling back the cloth.

"How do I know they're not drugged?" She asked again, her mouth watering at the smell of fresh baked bread and cured ham which wafted up at her. Her stomach convulsed and growled again.

Jareth sighed and smiled wryly, "I'm afraid you are going to have to trust me, Sarah."

"Damn."

He laughed with genuine amusement at her reaction. "Just eat the food, Stubborn Sarah. How will you defeat the lecherous Goblin King if you faint from hunger before you finish his quest?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she choked back a giggle.

She wondered aloud, "Why are you helping me? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of the whole quest?"

"Helping?" he replied, "Oh but this isn't _helping_. _This_ is only being fair."

She rolled her eyes.

"Besides," he added, "I prefer that my opponents provide me with a certain amount of diversion before they lose. There's no entertainment to be had in watching you starve yourself to death."

She glared at him as she sunk down to the ground to sit cross-legged and then reached into the basket.

A few moments later, she opened her eyes to find Jareth still sitting on his convenient rock and watching her with a strange expression on his face.

"What?" She mumbled through another huge bite. "Haven't you ever seen someone eat before?"

"It's been awhile since I've seen anyone eat with such intense . . . pleasure."

She detected the note in his voice which usually heralded a salacious comment and groaned with annoyance,

"I'm very hungry, Jareth. And you are distracting me from the food. Either shut up or go away again."

When she opened her eyes after savouring the next succulent bite of ham, she found him still there, lounging on the ground now, with his back against the rock, one leg bent up in front of him, the other stretched out straight ahead.

Huh, she thought, the Goblin King listening to her? Would wonders never cease? Then she uncapped a bottle of the cider and forgot about him.

About half an hour later, replete and happy, Sarah sighed gustily. She lay back on the grass, one arm across her eyes to shield them from the sun, and drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

**She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: (**_**Much Ado About Nothing**_**, II.i)**

Sarah could feel the strain of the last few days getting to her. She was already fatigued from the extra physical effort of walking day in and day out, but she was also suffering from mental exhaustion. Her dreams were getting worse. They began a variety of different ways, but always ended with the same falling and drowning scenario. And Evil-Sarah, as she had begun to refer to her dream doppelganger, was very inventive about finding ways to drop her. On top of that, Jareth had been continually appearing and disappearing as she travelled which kept her constantly on edge. She would turn in the middle of a conversation to find him gone; then he'd show up an hour or so later and reply to something she had forgotten she had said. All in all, her grip on her temper was uncertain and she had found it more and more difficult to meet his needling conversation with even the pretence of equanimity.

The first day on the plain she had woken up from her nap to find him nudging her foot with his boot.

"Sleeping the day away, Sarah? It's not that I don't want to come out the victor in our second engagement, but I'd prefer you provide me a bit more of a challenge."

Sarah had rubbed her bleary eyes and sat up. She squinted up at him. With the sun behind him, his face was in shadow, but she could tell he was giving her one of his mocking looks. She looked around. The sun was already nearing the horizon, and she realized with sinking feeling that she must have been sleeping for a couple hours at the least, since it couldn't have been more than two or three o'clock when she had finished her meal.

She swore and Jareth laughed. Scrambling to her feet, she stretched painfully and, tucking a couple apples in her pockets for later, set out on the trail.

Jareth hadn't followed her, but he showed up again the next morning with her breakfast. She had spent another uncomfortable night. The cold was worse out in the open and with nothing to make a fire and no convenient niche to curl up in, she had slept in fits and starts. Somewhere close to dawn she had dropped into a somewhat deeper sleep only to awake gasping from another of her Evil-Sarah dreams. So when he appeared mid-morning on the side of the trail, she was hungry and tired and definitely not in the mood for extended conversation with the Goblin King.

She had been walking along the path, the sun casting her shadow far across the grass in front of her, when she spotted him in the distance. As she got closer, she saw that he was sitting on a wooden stool next to a small fire and her mouth watered as she smelled the bacon and eggs sizzling in the three-legged frying pan. He was engaged in flipping the bacon with a small fork as she came up and there was a small pile of buttered toast standing ready on a plate.

"You cook?" She asked, surprised into speaking the question foremost on her mind.

He smiled at her expression of disbelief. "Indeed. Is that so amazing to you? When you get to know me better, I think you will find that I am a man of _many_ talents."

She shot him a venomous look. "Must you always-"

"Have some tea, Sarah," he interrupted, picking up a steaming cup from where it sat beside the fire and holding it out to her. "Breakfast will be ready in a moment."

She took the cup out of reflex and sat down cross-legged on the grass. She wrapped her cold fingers around the cup and sipped the tea cautiously. It was delicious, sweet and strong, and just what she needed. By the time she finished it, she was already feeling more clear-headed.

"Why are you following me around?" She asked him as he handed her a plate piled with perfectly browned toast, crisp bacon, and beautifully cooked eggs, still slightly runny in the centre, just the way she liked them. "Don't you have plenty of goblin minions to do your dirty work for you?"

"Of course," he replied, filling his own plate as he spoke. "However, I've decided that when it comes to you, I prefer to do my own dirty work." He flashed her a glance and there was a odd look in his eye, which made her stomach want to do backflips. "What better way," he continued smoothly, "to ensure that you lose than to keep you quite _distracted_." He somehow loaded the final word with so much suggestion that Sarah felt herself blushing.

"Troll."

"Viper."

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, but ate their breakfast in a strangely companionable silence.

That breakfast was three days ago now and although they had eaten together numerous times since, they had never quite gotten back to the same state of comfortable ease in each other's company. He popped in and out at random, and Sarah found herself torn between missing him when he was gone and resenting him for making her miss him. Then he'd reappear and she'd find herself picking a quarrel with him just relieve her frustration. Jareth seemed to become more irritable too. His conversation took on a biting tone and he flung her words back at her with almost frightening intensity. There was one moment the day before-when she thought about it, she shuddered at the memory.

She had made a comment about wanting to change careers when she got back to her own world, and Jareth had sneered,

"What's the matter, Sarah? Isn't your nice little librarian life enough for you?"

"No, if you must know, it isn't! The Labyrinth ruined me for an ordinary life."

"So bitter, Sarah."

She turned on him with a sound that was almost a snarl.

"I'm long past bitter, Jareth. Don't pretend to know what my life has been like since we last met. You may think you hold the monopoly on sneering cynicism, but you might be surprised. Every time I heard the ticking of a clock, I was reminded of this place. Every time I saw a peach or the number 13..." Her voice dropped to a tight whisper, "Or an owl. You've been inescapable despite my best attempts to leave you behind. It's _only_ forever, Jareth. At least you were able to forget."

"Lethe water."

"What?" Something in his tone jerked the question from her.

"Lethe water- the water of oblivion-diluted, of course, but in my case even that only lasted so long." His tone was bleak. "Do you know how long I have been the Goblin King? Time moves differently here. I've been here both a day and an aeon, only minutes and many centuries."

He looked her straight in the eyes and for once there was no mask.

"Forever, Sarah. And I have been alone for all of it."

She stared at him for a moment, shocked into silence, and then with a cold, sickening rush, she remembered the truth.

"Alone?" She laughed sardonically. "Alone with all the children you've stolen, alone with all your goblins-don't make me laugh, Jareth. You've never been alone."

Sarah closed her eyes at the memory. She'd never seen his face so expressionless. He had looked at her for several moments, his eyes like ice, and she was sure he was going to blast her where she stood. However, instead of blasting her, he had simply vanished.

And he hadn't come back since.

She tried to ignore the growing regret she felt for how they had parted, but the more she pushed it away, the guiltier she felt. She was sure now, in retrospect, that her final words had wounded him deeply. The blank look on his face when he disappeared-in the past few years, she had seen that same look in her mirror times past counting. She felt physically sick to her stomach.

As she walked toward the forest looming ever-closer on the horizon, her mind kept repeating the same phrase:

_I'm sorry, Jareth, I'm so, so sorry. _


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**O, yet I do repent me of my fury. (**_**Macbeth**_**, )**

She reached the forest at the end of her fourth full day of traveling on the plain, at the end of the day after Jareth left. Counting the two days she had spent fighting the Labyrinth, that meant she had seven days left. She should have plenty of time. Six days to get back to the castle, barring any difficulties on her way _back_ through the Labyrinth, and the thirteen day as a safety cushion, should she need it.

The forest seemed to absorb a little too much light, she thought later. Under its thick shadows, everything became dim and Sarah found it was even difficult to think clearly. Thankfully the path she had been traveling all this time continued in under the trees. The small shrine where she found the Labyrinth Opal was only a short way from the forest's edge and Sarah was happy enough to retrieve the Opal and get out of the trees before the sun set. She felt uncomfortable camping near the trees, so she walked back down the path a ways and sat there eating the apple and the sandwich she had pocketed at breakfast.

The shrine which housed the Labyrinth Opal had not been hard to find. A small stone building just off the side of the path, it hadn't even had a door. The floor was strangely clean for a deserted building in the middle of the woods. There were no leaves or animal signs inside. The Opal had hung in a little alcove on the wall opposite the door and seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. Sarah had simply lifted it from the peg and slipped it and the fine silver chain it swung from into her pocket. It had been as easy as that.

It was a bit anticlimactic, she thought as she sat watching the sunset. She hadn't really thought about it before, but surely there was usually a bit more drama involved in stealing artifacts from temples and such? Not that she was repining, but she hoped that no vengeful guardians would decide to come to take back the Opal. Running for her life in the middle of the night was not something she ever wanted to experience.

No vengeful guardians materialized, however, and the journey back was strangely uneventful. She got up early every morning, just as the blue light of pre-dawn made the landscape visible. It wasn't that she was that eager to get moving, since she was usually cold and damp and stiff from lying on the ground; however, she wasn't usually sleeping at that point anyway, the dream usually took care of that, and it was a better use of her time than sitting about waiting for the sun to rise.

A fresh basket of food arrived every morning. It was the only sign that Jareth remembered she existed. She should have been more thankful for it than she was, but the basket just served as a daily reminder of their last encounter and every time it showed up she felt guiltier than ever.

Toward the end of her trip, the lack of sleep began to tell on her. There were times where her mind seemed to wander, replaying scenes from the past two weeks, and then she would blink and slowly come out of the dream-like state to find herself still putting one foot in front of the other down the path. She supposed it was sort of like sleep-walking and at first it was just unnerving, but by the end of the last day on the plain it became downright terrifying. When she jerked back to full consciousness at one point and realized that she had been having one of her Evil-Sarah nightmares, she was filled with dread. It was bad enough that she was subjected to the dreams at night, but now even her waking moments were hazardous. How long, she wondered, would it be before she would completely lose her mind?

When the Labyrinth finally came into view from the top of a low hill, at first she wasn't sure if it was real or yet another hallucination. But the walls got closer and clearer as she walked toward them and she didn't seem to be dreaming. The Western Gate opened once again as she approached and she felt relief sweep over her as she passed under the arch and the doors closed behind her.

One more day, she told herself, one more day to get to the castle and then she could go home and she would never have to see this place again. She was brushing away the tears that had sprung to her eyes at the thought, when she turned a corner and saw Jareth standing right there in the middle of the passage, a quizzical look on his face.

_Without hesitating, Sarah closed the gap between them with two quick steps and flung her arms around him in a desperate embrace. _


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**I love you now; but not, till now, so much  
But I might master it (**_**Troilus and Cressida**_**, **)

When Sarah had once again thrown his role as Goblin King in his face, Jareth's instinctive reaction had been to lash out at her in kind. Her words had brought back in vivid detail the memory of first discovering the bitter truth about being Goblin King.

For a long time after he had become king, he had been alone. Then one day, the goblins brought him a child, the first to be wished away under his reign. He had appeared to the child's mother and made her the same offer he had made to all the runners, the same he had made to Sarah: her dreams or the chance to win the child back by running the Labyrinth. The child's mother had been eager at first, but she had given up and admitted defeat only halfway through. Jareth had sent her back to the world above and eagerly looked for the child, his new subject. He had looked in vain.

"Where is the child?" He had stormed into the Labyrinth and demanded angrily. "Where have you sent him?"

_"He is here." _

"Where?"

A noise had caught his attention and he had turned to see an unfamiliar goblin scurry across the corridor. It had chittered nervously as the king stared at its squashed nose and bulging cheeks, so reminiscent of the small pudgy child the goblins had delivered only hours earlier.

_"You are King of the Goblins-did you not think what that meant?" _

For a long time after that he had been filled with anger. Every child wished away tore at his soul, until eventually, his pain had made him bitter and cynical and those who wished their children away lived just long enough to regret their foolishness and learn that the Goblin King was a cruel and pitiless opponent.

And then Sarah had happened.

She had changed him, somehow, made him feel emotions he had forgotten he could feel. He found himself, for the first time in centuries, wanting a runner to win. Even when she was gone and he felt himself spiraling back into despair, he found it difficult to take up his old persona. He found himself watching her, wondering what it was about her that affected him.

Then, somehow, she had summoned him again and once again he found himself changing.

He, the cynical Goblin King, had found himself suddenly admitting his loneliness, pouring out his pain and the depths to which he had sunk, and then-she had laughed in his face.

"Alone?" she had taunted, "Alone with all the children you've stolen, alone with all your goblins-don't make me laugh, Jareth. You've never been alone."

He hated Sarah in that moment, hated her as much as he had ever hated any of the vile beings who had ever cringed before him. But then he had looked into her eyes and seen his own pain reflected in their jade depths. He hadn't counted on that and he realized that Sarah _had_ changed. More than he had ever guessed. His confused brain had reeled with the revelation and he had run from it like a coward.

He left her standing there and returned to the Labyrinth to wait, resolving to let her win and let her go, once and for all. He had done enough damage. When the Labyrinth told him she had returned, he had gone to meet her, prepared to challenge her one last time. And then, before he could say anything, she had thrown herself into his arms and whispered her apologies against his chest. All his hard-won resolve melted away and he realized that he couldn't let her go without telling her the truth.

Therefore, he now reluctantly pulled himself out of her embrace. He almost smiled when he saw her lift her chin with her usual belligerence; the effect was rather spoiled by the fact that her nose was red and her eyes still wet with tears. Ever stubborn Sarah, and oh how he loved her for it!

"Before this, I thought I loved you," he told her. "I was wrong."

Her face went pale as he spoke, and realizing suddenly how his words might be misinterpreted, he hurried to continue, "What I felt for you before is nothing to what I feel now. I never knew you before this, Sarah. I loved the idea of you. I loved your spirit and your persistence and the way you made me feel powerful and intimidating. I loved the way you aroused me-"

Her eyes got huge and she blushed hotly and looked away.

"Yes, I admit it. To my shame. But it was a selfish sort of love. A love that had nothing to do with who _you_ are and everything to do with what I wanted and how I wanted to feel. My lusts and desires."

"Not to say," he added, with a slightly wicked smile, "That I don't desire you now. It's just. . . different. Better, I hope." He steeled himself and continued, "And because I _do_ love you, I will tell you the truth." He sighed and tried to swallow past the lump of guilt and fear in his throat. His mouth felt as dry as dust and the look of horrified anticipation on her face wasn't helping much. He wished she would say something, anything to keep him from having to continue, but for once, Sarah was silent.

"You were right, you know, about me not knowing what to do."

"I was right?" She repeated, sniffing slightly, but a slightly teasing smile on her face. She sat down on a bench and waited for him to continue.

Jareth smiled ruefully. "You were right. As much as it pains me to admit it. You hadn't said the right words, hadn't actually said 'I wish,' yet somehow I had come to you. I never told you, but without the power of a true wish to summon me there, I can't go Above. I am confined here in the Underground, in the Labyrinth. However, the inverse is also true: when a wish is made, I have to answer it. It's part of the conditions of my reign as Goblin King."

"There are conditions to you being King? How does that-"

He interrupted, "You know this would be easier if you wouldn't-" He paused and sighed. "No, actually, you have every right to ask questions. Please," he invited, waving her on, "Proceed."

"You mean I was right about that too? About you being the Labyrinth's servant?"

His mouth twisted in a half-smile at the irony. "More like its slave. Since I came here, I have been a prisoner. A favoured one, I'll admit, with quite a lot of power, but a prisoner, nevertheless. I'm a tool. I take the children foolish mortals wish to me and I rule the goblins, but my power is conditional on obedience to the Labyrinth. If I break the conditions, I become a goblin like all the rest."

"I see."

He shook his head and sighed. "Oh, Sarah, if only you did."

She waited silently for him to continue.

"I could have sent you home days ago. You never wished yourself or anyone else here, so you were never bound to stay. There was no challenge. That was me. I just wanted to keep you here, see you. I set it up so you'd think it was like the last time, only this time you were trying to save yourself. I gave myself thirteen days. I was going to let you 'win' and return you without telling you what I'd done."

Silence.

Finally, he looked down at her, anguish in his eyes.

Sarah's face was white and drawn. She wasn't looking at him, but stared at the ground. He waited. Suddenly she stood up and said, "I-I need to think." She began pacing, then stopped and turned, saying rather breathlessly, "I can't think with you looking at me. I'm . . . going to go for a walk."

Before she went more than a few steps, she paused again and looked back. "Please . . . don't spy on me." Then without waiting for his assent, she turned and walked out of his sight.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;  
I know not where I am, nor what I do; (**_**King Henry VI: Part 1**_**, I.v)**

Sarah walked the Labyrinth's corridors for what felt like hours. She didn't care where she went as long as she could concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and try to process what Jareth had just told her. Was this another of Jareth's clever, painful ploys or was he really telling the truth? Last time he had done so, she had flung it back in his face, but still. . . She would not put it past him to distract her by claiming-that he loved her? That part hadn't affected her nearly as much as his revelation that he had become the Goblin King only to avoid becoming a goblin himself. The confession had been so raw and sincere. His voice when he said "_More like a slave." _It had rung so true. She had felt his agony.

If what he said was true, he had lied through his pointed teeth most of the time she had known him. Yet he had confessed-volunteered even-the truth. He could have let her go on thinking that this quest was real, let her win, and sent her back-all without revealing the truth. She wrenched her mind away from the memory of his face when he had confessed he had been lying to her. One little word, three letters, but it had hurt her more deeply than anything else he had said. And yet, she wanted to believe him.

Why had he ever taken the chance? If she had won, she wouldn't have known any different. If she had lost, he would not have had to tell her either. He would have gotten what it seemed he wanted-she would have stayed. After all, Sarah Williams always fulfilled her obligations. Even to imperious, mind-bendingly attractive Goblin Kings.

She stopped walking. Was _that_ why? Could he possibly want her to _choose_ to stay? Could he possibly _want_ her to stay? Not just because he defeated her, but because. . . he- No, he couldn't possibly love her. He had been such a jerk!

_Maybe that's _why _he's been such a jerk_, a part of her wondered. If that were the case. . . she could forgive him much. But should she? That was the question. She sighed. It wasn't a question she could answer, not right now at any rate. She needed more time. Perhaps, she smiled at the thought, perhaps he could give it to her. It was worth a shot anyway. Now, if she could only find her way back to ask him, that would be rather helpful.

As she had on the first day back Underground, she had been walking blindly, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to where she was going. And once again, she was lost.

"Darn it," she muttered, "Which way?"

A strange sort of whining sound behind her made her start and whirl around.

A crystal ball rolled along the ground a little ways down the passage. As she watched, it rolled closer until it passed right in front of her and then it paused, almost as though it were waiting for her. She looked at it through narrowed eyes. It moved again, executing a little, beckoning circle, as though urging her to follow.

"It's not that I have anything against you," she told it. "But the last time I followed one of you, it led me straight to the Goblin King."

The crystal circled again.

Sarah laughed at her own blindness. "Well, I guess I _am_ going your direction after all. Lead on, MacDuff!"

Smiling, she followed it down passages and through hedge-lined gardens. At times she had to break into a run to keep up with it. It would dart around a corner and she would lose sight of it, only to find it waiting for her. It would do this little spin as it set off again as though saying, "finally!" _Was it possible, _she wondered, _for an inanimate object to convey impatience?_

A few times it whipped down a long stretch of corridor so quickly that Sarah had to run full out to keep out. She admonished it, breathlessly, but severely, on these occasions, but the crystal seemed to be just as stubborn as its master and took no heed of her scolding.

Finally after about an hour, the crystal came to a halt in an unfamiliar court yard. The Goblin King was not in evidence. Maybe he was going to meet her there?

Sarah sat down on a bench to wait and get her breath back. The crystal had done a number of sprints just previously and she was hot and thirsty. She noticed the well across the court yard only after she had been sitting there for a few minutes. She rose and walked over to it, hopeful that it was one of the wells which actually contained water. The crystal followed her and actually hopped up on the edge of the wall surrounding the well.

Sarah leaned over to look into the well and saw herself reflected in the dark depths. There was water, but it was a foot or so down and she had to stretch to even get her finger to touch the surface.

"Would it be too much trouble to have a bucket handy?" She muttered, straightening up and inspecting the area surrounding the well.

She had no luck finding anything to dip up the water. She decided that even a few drops from her finger tips would be better than nothing and leaned back over the well, reaching out-

She drew back with a gasp.

The surface of the water had changed and it was now mirror bright. As she stared, images began forming before her eyes, little soundless scenes which caught her attention.

_A child stood crying in the Labyrinth. A goblin scurried and tripped him. Then the child seemed to be speaking to someone out of the frame of vision. _

The scene flickered_. _

_The same child, but older, watched in revulsion as a tiny baby writhed and twisted on the floor before him. The baby twitched and then transformed. A little goblin crouched in its place. _

Flicker.

_The child had become a youth and strode the Labyrinth's corridors like some hungry predator. His eyes had become strangely cold. _

Flicker.

The next scene made Sarah start. She saw-her younger self facing off against the Goblin King in the Escher Room. She watched in fascination, noticing the expressions on his face which she had not been in a position to see before. He looked. . . She couldn't quite lay her mental finger on a word which would adequately describe the emotions on his face. Despairing? Hopeless? Yearning?

Flicker.

The next scene was again unfamiliar and strangely blurred. But she was sure that she saw Jareth again. Something was off here, she noticed, and she didn't quite know what it was-until she clued into the fact that the scenery was not Jareth's usual milieu. He was Above, and, yes, wearing what looked like a blazer, black skinny jeans and Converse. She squinted: Was that Guns N' Roses T-shirt? She almost laughed. Jareth the Hipster King? How the mighty were fallen! The scene blurred even further and she leaned closer to try and see. The stone she was leaning on rocked slightly and the crystal beside her wobbled and rolled toward the water. She snatched at it from reflex.

As soon as she touched the crystal, she knew she had made a deadly error. Her hand felt as though she held a live coal. She gave a gasping cry, then she felt herself somehow being pulled out of her body. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt. She had never felt anything like this. Every nerve and fibre on fire with the heat of a thousand suns. Agony filled her skull and vibrated in her bones. She wanted to scream, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate. There was no room left for air. Only pain had a place here.

And then she was falling, falling, falling. _The water was closing in around her, her lungs burned, ached to breathe, but she couldn't get her feet to move. She fought to reach the surface, but something was pulling her down deeper and deeper. She tried to call Jareth's name, but her mouth filled with water and then everything went black._

* * *

_Author's note: Those of you who know your Shakespeare well will note Sarah's misquote of the "Macduff" line. The line is often misquoted, but it should, indeed, be "Lay on, Macduff," not "Lead on, Macduff." (Well caught, Honoria Granger). Sarah knows Shakespeare's comedies better than his tragedies, so she should be forgiven this slight lapse. :)_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

**Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold (**_**Romeo and Juliet**_**, IV.v)**

Jareth told himself he wasn't concerned when an hour passed and still Sarah did not return. He paced. She had asked him not to spy, but he knew only too well the dangers she might face should the Labyrinth once again decide to turn treacherous. Still. She had managed before. He would respect her wish-he smiled wryly at the thought-after all, when had he not? He waited.

The hours ticked past.

Finally, despite her final request, Jareth allowed himself to try scrying for her, just to ensure himself of her safety. To his surprise, his crystals showed him only nonsense. Every attempt ended with the crystal clouding and turning completely black. It was as though Sarah had vanished from the Labyrinth. The vague sense of unease he had felt growing in the last few hours surged into crushing dread. Something was horribly wrong.

He sent out all the goblins to search and continued to try the crystals. Finally, one of the goblins returned, almost incoherent with fright, and told him where she was. He shifted and found himself in one of the many Labyrinth courtyards.

Sarah lay crumpled by the well in the middle of the courtyard, deathly still. Her skin was marble white, eyes wide and staring. He knew instantly this was no enchanted sleep, no peach-induced dream state. The look of _this_-it was unmistakable. A sudden breeze blew a lock of her hair across her face. Jareth bent and gently brushed it back, then closed his eyes and wished with all his power that he would open them and Sarah would not be lying dead on the ground before him.

A footfall sounded behind him.

"Jareth."

The voice acted like a catalyst. His eyes snapped open and his head jerked around.

Sarah was-_Sarah_ was standing behind him. He looked back at the figure on the ground and found it was no longer there. He whipped round again. Sarah stood just out of arm's reach. Her smile shone with tenderness. The Goblin King took one step and dropped to his knees at her feet. Sarah stepped forward, so close that the hem of her silver grey gown brushed his thighs. He stared up into her face in wonder. A pair of small hands cupped his face and Sarah smiled radiantly.

"My love."

The relief swept over him and he wrapped his arms around her, his head coming to rest against her stomach. His body shook as sobs convulsed his throat. Her fingers played with his hair, running through it, then smoothing it back.

"Did you think I would let you go so easily?" She said softly.

He shuddered and his arms gripped her tighter.

"After all, you are mine forever." The tone was coolly complacent.

Jareth's arms fell away. His face was ashen, lips bloodless, as he stared up at her. Sarah turned and stepped away, hips swaying seductively. Her hands sensually smoothed the fabric over her hips, then passed slowly over her breasts.

A pointed smile twisted her mouth.

"You like this body, don't you, Jareth? You like it _very_ much."

Jareth, still on his knees, hardly breathed. His eyes followed her as she twirled, skirts billowing and rippling. She laughed with glee. "And now _it_ is mine too."

"Where is she?" His voice, coming from a throat thickened with emotion, was barely audible.

"She?" The Labyrinth arched an eyebrow. "Gone. Like she never existed. Now there is only me. Only us."

Jareth rose slowly, his eyes riveted to her face.

"Tell me where she is." There was threat in the tone.

"Somewhere. . . captivating." The Labyrinth smiled with gloating satisfaction at her joke. "You will never find her."

Jareth sneered back, his eyes glinting with black humour. "As Sarah says, 'how much do you wanna bet?'"

"Will you challenge _me?_" Her voice rose to a shriek.

"I will."

The Labyrinth laughed hysterically. "You will fail and you will just lose her all over again."

"I will run for her."

"You will run as a mortal, then, you fool. You will be Jareth only-no magic, no power. And I," she almost cackled with glee, "I will not be so merciful as you. You will find no convenient friends. No help."

"Still I will run." His face was set.

The Labyrinth's eyes filled with tears. "Jareth, why must you do this? Have I not been better to you than ten Sarahs? Haven't I given you everything? Why can't you love me as before?"

"You never gave me everything." His tone was bleak.

"Whatever you wanted, I-"

"-NO!" His voice snapped and roused a host of echoes, which resounded and resonated down every passage. "You never gave me freedom and you never gave me _love_."

"But _I_ love you!"

"Ha!" Jareth's face broke from its stoic façade and a mirthless, sneering smile stretched the corners of his mouth. "You cannot even fathom what love is. You desire, you use, you bend, and you bruise. And all to your own ends. Love does not impose _conditions_ or resort to coercion to enforce its will. You lust and that is all."

The Labyrinth's face turned cruel as Jareth spoke these words.

"Very well," she said coldly, "I accept your challenge. You have thirteen hours to find her." She stepped back and as she slowly faded away, taunted: "Don't waste time, Jareth. She won't last long."

Jareth turned away from the Well, took one step, and found himself in an alien land.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed,  
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours  
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives  
Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,  
And send to darkness all that stop me. (_Antony and Cleopatra,_ )**

Jareth felt, rather than saw, himself transition from Underground to the Sarah's world.

Around him buildings loomed far into the darkness above him. He couldn't even see the stars. Streetlights shone on rain-soaked pavement.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you, did you, Jareth? You know me intimately-hardly a challenge for you. No, this is much better." The Labyrinth's voice sounded in his head. "Here you have as fair a chance as Sarah did. Now, run and find her at the heart before it is too late."

As the Labyrinth's final words resounded in his head, his power was taken from him. It was not instantaneous but a gradual trickling away like water escaping from a crack, but nevertheless he still felt as though it had been ripped from his very being. What was worse, he could still feel the ghost of it hanging within him, like the spots that swam before his eyes after looking at sun. The pain of it overwhelmed him and he lost all sense of time and space for moments afterward.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, he found himself crouched on his knees on the pavement. The palms of his hands were imprinted with the texture of the cement, and he realized suddenly that his gloves were missing. He rose, slowly for it made him dizzy, to his feet and noted with displeasure that his garments had been exchanged for Aboveworld clothes. He now wore a black wool jacket, black jeans, and a t-shirt which sported an incongruous emblem of roses and some sort of firearm. He did not approve. He felt already. . . diminished, and he missed his boots. He now wore some sort of black and white rubber-soled sneakers. He looked at himself with disdain. This entire ensemble lacked the appropriate élan for such a task as he faced.

A cold drop fell down his neck. Another splashed and dripped off his nose. He heard the noise of water pattering lightly in the puddles around him and then it began to rain in earnest.

Out of reflex he tried to invoke his magic to protect him, but the attempt only made him feel nauseous and dizzy. He turned wildly. No shelter here. A block away there were the swooping lights of vehicles on what seemed to be a busy cross street. He began running towards them before his conscious brain even made the decision. By the time he got there his hair was clinging damply to his forehead and his feet were soaked through his shoes. Cursing the loss of his boots, he took refuge under a store awning and tried to get his bearings.

Looking up and down the street in the darkness and pouring rain, he could not discover any buildings he recognized. What he did see far down the street on his left was the web-like structure of the iron bridge Sarah crossed every morning and evening on her way to the University. He smiled. The bridge meant the river which wound its serpentine way through the centre of the city. If he followed the river, he could find his way, eventually, to all of Sarah's usual haunts. He turned up the collar on his coat and shoving his hands into its pockets, headed back out into the deluge.

He realized when he got to the bridge that he had forgotten to take one important factor into account: when he had watched Sarah in Above, he had used the owl. The city looked very different from the ground. Most of the landmarks he had flown by were now useless. Which direction would take him to Sarah's apartment?

He tried to visualize what the buildings around him would look like from the air, comparing his memories of the area around the bridge to what he could now see from the ground. There had been an open space, a park, and before that, a sharply-steepled church with an ornate spire. Sarah's apartment was a few streets beyond that. Left, he decided. The way to Sarah's apartment was left. He hunched farther into the coat and began walking.

Why, he thought after he had walked down yet another street which failed to bring him to Sarah's apartment building, did people in Above make so many buildings which looked the same? All these towers of uniform grey, every street lined with the same trees and the same streetlights, this place was both hideously ugly and immensely boring. He didn't see what Sarah liked about the place. Why would she choose to live amongst such grotesque homogeneity?

He paused at a street corner. Which way now? All four options looked the same. He shivered suddenly and grimaced; it was getting colder and still raining. Left again, he decided. At least he'd be able to eliminate that particular street.

An hour or so later, weary, very wet, and footsore, he arrived at Sarah's apartment building just as the rain stopped. He recognized the building as hers only by the star made of lights which Sarah's neighbour had tied to the railing on her balcony. If it hadn't been for that, he would have walked right past it in the dark and continued to wander the streets till morning.

He had observed the building protocol when Sarah's 'friends' had come calling and knew that there was some special ceremony of pressing buttons and speaking to the wall that opened the door. He was surveying the building and wondering how he was going to get in, when a car with a light on the top stopped at the curb and a young man in a baseball cap hopped out, carrying a flat box. He watched the man enter the building and press the buttons. When the man opened the door, Jareth quickly followed him, catching the inside door before it closed.

The wall with the buttons had 'S. Williams' listed by Apt. 313, so, armed with that information, he entered and began looking for a way up to the third floor. He encountered the man with the box waiting by a door in the corridor. The delicious smell of fresh bread and melted cheese emanating from the box reminded him that it had been a long time since he had last eaten. The man pressed a lighted button on the wall impatiently as Jareth came up. Finally the man swore profanely and turned away. "Don't bother with the elevator, buddy; it's out of service again. Every single effing time I'm here, I'm stuck taking the stairs. They don't pay me enough for this!"

Jareth followed him to the stairwell and up to the third floor. The other man waved as he continued up the stairs.

"Fifth floor for me, buddy, see ya later."

Jareth waved back and entered the third floor hallway. It was ill-lit and smelled musty. He wrinkled his nose with distaste, wondering again why Sarah chose to live in such a place. He wandered down a few hallways before he found Apartment 313. He tried the doorknob. Locked. He should have known. He stood there, dripping onto the threadbare brown carpet, and wondered what he should do next.

The sound of a metal rattling and muffled footsteps met his ear. He looked up to see a short grey-haired old woman hobbling down the hall toward him, pulling a little two-wheeled cart behind her. She stopped at the door just down the hall and fumbled with a key. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open and turned to wheel her cart inside.

She noticed Jareth standing by Sarah's door and smiled, saying kindly, "I don't think she's home, young man, I haven't heard so much as a peep from her all day."

He shrugged, "I will wait."

She nodded and pushed her cart inside her own apartment and closed the door.

Jareth stood there in the hall and dripped some more on the carpet.

A minute later, the door down the hall opened again and the old woman stepped out. "Would you like to come and wait in here for Sarah? I can usually tell when she's home, the walls here might as well be paper for the insulation they give, so you wouldn't miss her if you did."

He politely declined, explaining, "I'm afraid I'm rather wet."

She shuffled closer and her eyes widened. "Good gracious! You are soaking wet! Come in and I will get you some things to wear while your own are in the dryer."

Jareth protested, "I will manage."

"Nonsense! You can't stand about in those wet clothes in this hallway all evening. You'll catch your death and Sarah would never forgive me. Now come inside!" The little woman's tone was surprisingly stern and Jareth was in no mood to argue. It would be nice to be dry again.

He stood dripping in the apartment's tiny entrance way as Mrs. Abertain, as she had introduced herself, bustled about finding towels.

"Here you are," she said, handing him a pile of towels and a red silk robe. "Now you just step into the bathroom and change out of those wet things. I'll take them down to the laundry in the basement and put them in the dryer for you. And don't you worry about the money," she added, "Sarah's often changed my laundry to the dryer for me and it will be my turn to pay her back."

Mrs. Abertain seemed to be remarkably trustful, letting a complete stranger into her home, but he had a feeling that she was no fool. Her faded grey eyes had examined him quite closely and their conversation had, at times, take on the tone of a interrogation. She seemed very concerned about his relationship with Sarah and had asked all sorts of probing questions: How long had he known Sarah? Where had they met? What did he do for a living? He did his best to answer honestly without revealing anything about Underground.

An hour later, as Jareth waved goodbye to Mrs. Abertain, he resolved that if-when-he got his powers back, he would reward her richly for her help. She had dried his clothes, given him some delicious beverage called 'cocoa,' and most importantly, she had let him in to Sarah's apartment with the spare key Sarah had apparently left in her charge.

"I'm sure Sarah would wish me to let you in, you being such a close friend and all," she had said as she unlocked the door. "And if she doesn't come back by tomorrow, you come on back and let me know. I worry about that girl. She works too hard and that boyfriend of her's, that Rob-he's as self-centred as they come. I've never once seen him so much as open a door for her. Not a gentleman. Now, there you are, Jareth," she said stepping aside to let him in. "And I hope Sarah doesn't make you wait too long."

He smiled down at her. "I'm used to waiting for Sarah."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

**Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,**  
**Steal me awhile from mine own company. (**_**A Midsummer Night's Dream**_**, )**

A knock at the door Jareth had only just closed startled him. When he opened it, he found a short, rather plump, woman who looked to be in her late fifties. Her silver-white hair was cut in a short bob, and she wore a green and brown tweed and white blouse with a green cardigan clasped with a silver broach in the shape of a toadstool. She blinked when she looked up and saw who had answered Sarah's door.

"Oh," she said, looking confused, "I was looking for Sarah? Sarah Williams?" She looked at the door number and then at the piece of paper in her hand. "Maybe I have the wrong number? Or the wrong building? How strange. I was so careful about writing it down too."

"This is Sarah's . . . abode. She is not here, however."

The woman looked disappointed. "Oh, she has a book that she wanted me to look at for her. A rare first-edition-Anonymous-if I recollect correctly. . . She wondered if I would evaluate it and see if I could discover its provenance."

He wasn't exactly sure what the protocols were for visitors to other people's dwellings. He stepped back and was going to apologize and close the door; however, the woman seemed to take his movement out of the doorway as an invitation to come in and before he knew it she was puttering about Sarah's apartment, shuffling papers on the desk and searching the crowded bookcase looking for the elusive first-edition.

Jareth tried to protest, but she brushed off his attempts with airy waves of her hands. "Oh Sarah wouldn't mind. She and I are old friends-fellow bibliophiles, in fact. We never stand on ceremony with each other."

He was about to pull rank on her and show this officious poke-nose who was Goblin King and who was not, when she turned to him and said benevolently, "Oh please, my dear, do sit down. You look about worn out. I'll make us a cup of tea. I could use some myself. I know where Sarah keeps her tea things, so don't you worry about coming to help me. You just sit right down there. Maybe even close your eyes for a tick. I won't be more than a few minutes."

He didn't know how she did it but he found himself obeying her suggestion and listening to the homely sounds of a kettle being filled and cups set out in the other room.

He sat there and wondered what could be wrong with him. He felt strangely lethargic and his usually boundless energy seemed non-existent. He found it difficult to stay focused or even to think about what he should do next. His feet hurt.

"Here," The woman's voice at his elbow startled him out of his reverie. She handed him a mug. "Drink this, it will do you good." She sat down in the chair opposite him, her own cup in hand.

He brought the mug up to his nose and sniffed its contents. The floral aroma of the tea was surprisingly delightful. He took a sip. It was not an unpleasant flavour either. He drank it slowly and found when it was gone, that he did, in fact, feel better.

He looked up to find the woman's smiling gaze upon him. "You know, " she said, "In all my bustle to try and find that book and then the tea, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Tania Feyling and I-" He interrupted. "You taught Sarah about old books and manuscripts."

The woman laughed with surprise. "Yes, but how did you know?"

Jareth swallowed the last drop of tea in his cup and tried to think of a plausible answer. He couldn't tell her he had spied on Sarah as an owl and seen them together. "She. . . told me that you inspired her to begin her career."

"Oh, how nice." The woman took a sip of tea and said archly, "But Sarah never told me about _you_. And I am _very_ curious about _you_. I've told you my name, but I have yet to hear yours."

"I am Jareth, the-" he paused and tried to think of something to call himself other than 'Jareth, the Goblin King'. "Jareth Fenn."

"What an interesting name. I don't think I've ever heard that variant of Gareth before. I also dabble a bit in onomastics-the study of names, you know, and I'm always thrilled to encounter new variants. Did you know that your last name comes from the Old English word for a bog or marsh?" She chattered on in this way for several minutes.

Jareth sat listening, but unhearing. His mind wandered.

She spoke his name.

He started and felt his heart pounding in his throat. He tried to speak, to ask her to leave, but then he felt a wave of pure exhaustion sweep over him. He fought it, felt the next wave sweep through, and then the next, and it was all he could do not to get lost in the undertow. He looked up desperately at the woman sitting in the chair across from him. She was smiling at him in a way that caused chills to run up his spine. It seemed to him as through her outline quivered and shifted. He blinked, trying to force his recalcitrant eyes to focus, and then-then a fiercely beautiful woman sat in Sarah's dingy armchair. She looked as young and as old as Time itself. Her ebony face was framed by pale hair which seemed to be made of spiraling moonbeams and her eyes were dark as night, but their depths seemed to glitter with silver stars.

He stared.

"You?" He barely spoke the word. He felt as though all breath had been drawn out of him and he was on the verge of fainting.

"Ah, I see you know who I am," she smiled in a way that should have been comforting but wasn't. "Well, I also know you, King of the Goblins, and of your quest. You seek Sarah here, but here she is not. Ddrysfa has tricked you and has sent Sarah to the land of the Oneiroi. Go now and seek her there." As she spoken these words, she rose from the chair, towering over Jareth, who sat on the sofa, unable to move. She smiled again. "I will give you a word of advice, little brother: do not underestimate her power." With that, she reached out a hand and pulled reality about her like a cloak and vanished from his sight.

Darkness swirled around him, his eyes fell closed, and then for a time, he knew nothing.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

**If you do love me, you will find me out. (**_**Merchant of Venice**_ ** )**

"No excuses now, Joe, You are going straight back to bed." Sarah's voice was kind but firm, as she tucked the blankets around the small, dark-haired boy. The boy squirmed.

"But Mommy, I had a bad dream." His pleading eyes were the same clear green as hers.

"Really?" Sarah said, brushing a lock of slightly curling hair back from the boy's forehead.

"There were goblins, great big ones, with tentacles even."

Sarah laughed softly, "With tentacles even? What colour?"

"Green, of course, Mommy," the boy said with slight exasperation. "And black. And one of them had a purple spots."

"Terrifying. Did you use your right words and wish them away?"

"Yes, but-"

She smiled and shook her head. "So the Goblin King has them back again, and," her voice took on a warning note, "Now there will be no more bad dreams. Or," her voice became mockingly stern, "I will send Daddy to tuck you in tomorrow night."

"But Mommy, Daddy doesn't tell the stories right!" The boy protested, snuggling down under the blankets.

"Well, then you had better behave yourself and stay in bed," she replied as she patted his head tenderly and turned off the light.

. . .

"You have no power over me! On your knees, oh Goblin King!" Sarah's voice rang like a gong, imperious and cold, and against his will the Goblin King found himself kneeling at her feet.

Cool fingers took his chin and he looked up into merciless green eyes. Sarah smiled, baring needle-sharp teeth, and purred, "You _shall_ be my slave, indeed."

"Cut!"

The scene subtly altered and once again Jareth found himself somehow outside it, watching.

"Ok folks," a man's voice called, "We're going to do that one again, but this time, with the alternate angles."

Sarah stood on a stone dais, her green velvet gown swirled elegantly down the steps before her. People bustled around her, tweaking folds and dabbing at her face with brushes and little white pads. There was something familiar about the room, Jareth noticed. The position of the windows, the ornate chair on the dais behind her, the arched doorways. It wasn't until he saw the man rise from where he had sprawled at Sarah's feet that Jareth realized where they were.

"Can I get an Evian?" The actor wore a spiked blond wig, heavy eye makeup, and was dressed in clothes which Jareth recognized as being much too similar to his own usual apparel for coincidence. But, surely, he thought, his own trousers were not usually _that_ revealing?

A woman handed the actor a bottle. He took a drink and handed it back, leering, "Thanks, love."

"Positions please! We've got to wrap this up today."

. . .

_"If we shadows have offended,"_

Sarah's clear voice filled the room, as she strode downstage from the proscenium.

_"Think but this, and all is mended—_

_That you have but slumbered here_

_While these visions did appear._

_And this weak and idle theme,_

_No more yielding but a dream,_

_Gentles, do not reprehend._

_If you pardon, we will mend._

_And, as I am an honest Puck,_

_If we have unearnèd luck_

_Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,_

_We will make amends ere long._

_Else the Puck a liar call._

_So good night unto you all._

_Give me your hands if we be friends,_

_And Robin shall restore amends."_

The theatre erupted with whistles and applause as Sarah bowed and skipped lightly off into the wings. The curtain fell and . . .

Damn, Jareth thought inwardly as the dream faded for what seemed like the hundredth time, he thought that maybe this one, finally, was really her. How long had he been searching? How much time did he have left? So many dead ends, so many Sarahs and none of them had been her. But, as he thought back through them, there had been something else, something prowling on the borders of his vision in each and every scene. What was it?

Once again, the darkness before him coiled and stretched, distending into what at first glance seemed to Jareth to be yet another of Sarah's dreams. But as he watched the edges now, he discovered that something was wrong with the scenes unfolding before him. There was something hidden underneath all these fantasies, something darker. He probed and abruptly the dream snapped and . . .

He watched as time after time Sarah fought with Ddrysfa, as time after time she fell soundlessly screaming into the well, her eyes bulging and frantic as she sunk down into its black depths.

These were no projections, no mere day dreams. These, he realized, these were the cause of the deep shadows he had seen growing under Sarah's eyes, the reason her face had taken on a hunted look in the last two weeks. Ddrysfa had been invading Sarah's sleep, twisting her dreams into terrifying specters. No wonder he hadn't been able to find her here. Sarah's dreams weren't safe.

Where then? Where could she hide from her nightmares? Where else could she possibly be?

Sarah's voice suddenly echoed around him:

"_Every time I heard the ticking of a clock, I was reminded of this place. Every time I saw a peach or the number 13... Or an owl. You've been inescapable despite my best attempts to leave you behind. It's only forever, Jareth. At least you were able to forget."_

_Her memories. _


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

**And here we wander in illusions:**  
**Some blessed power deliver us from hence! (**_**A Comedy of Errors**_**, )**

Jareth found Sarah hiding in her childhood memories of the Labyrinth.

She wore the same clothes she had worn on her first visit: white tunic and vest, blue jeans, brown loafers. Only her face showed the intervening years.

Standing there in the ruins of the Escher Room, she spoke:

"Give me the child."

He spoke her name and tried to take her hands, but she avoided his touch and moved away.

"Generous? What have you done that's generous?"

"Sarah," he repeated, "Please. Stop. Listen to me."

She didn't seem to see or hear him, but continued, following her memories religiously, repeating them word for word, gesture for gesture.

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. . ."

She hesitated at the line, just as she had then. As he had so many years before, Jareth tried to get her attention in this convenient gap.

"Sarah. I love you."

"Damn, I can never remember that line," she muttered. "My kingdom is as great. . ."

"Sarah, look at me. Please."

Sarah's face took on an arrested expression and she raised her eyes to his. Stepping forward, she repeated the words from all those years ago: "You have no power over me."

Jareth's eyes dropped in defeat. He had lost her. Again.

"You have no power over me," she repeated.

He stood there, frozen, preparing for the inevitable transition back to Sarah's world. He would wake up from this dream and the Labyrinth would win.

"Jareth!" Her words barely penetrated the despair. "You shag-haired glitter fiend! Look at me!"

He blinked and looked up. Sarah stood there, hands on her hips and a mischievous smile on her face. It _was_ Sarah. Only she would call her rescuer names.

"How many times do I have to tell you that the glitter is a side-effect?" He protested, his heart threatening to split with happiness.

"It's still ridiculous," she grinned, adding, "Since when do you share my dreams anyway?"

He shrugged and grinned back at her. "These are memories, but there _is_ a precedent, you may remember?"

"That wasn't really-You mean that _was_ really you in the ballroom last time? I thought it was just a dream." Now it was her time to protest.

"You may recall that when it comes to you, I always do my own dirty work," he reminded her.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but he saw the blush rising in her cheeks.

"But how-" Her question was cut short as he closed the gap between them and took her in his arms.

After some moments, he sighed and said against her hair, "How did I get here? Well, I'm currently sleeping-I think-on your couch. How I'm sleeping is another matter. I think it might have been the tea Tania gave me."

"Tania?" She raised her head to look up in inquiry at his face. "How on earth did you meet Tania of all people?"

"Well, I didn't, not exactly. She met me. At your apartment. And Sarah, you might not believe this, but she's actually someone rather important Underground."

"What? How-" The disbelief was plain on her face.

"It's not wise to say her name, but you would think you had met her in _a midsummer's night dream_," he prompted.

He watched as Sarah processed this information. "No _way! _She's T-oh." A warning look from him cut her off short. "But. . ._Tania_? Wait-Tania _Feyling_." Sarah laughed breathlessly. "She wasn't even subtle about it. I just never-really? You're sure?"

He nodded, a rueful expression on his face. "Quite."

"_She_ gave you tea and you drank it?"

"Well, I didn't know it was _her_ until afterward," he explained. "She was very discrete up until the point where she took her true form and then vanished."

He noticed Sarah's brow was furrowed and she was looking at him with a puzzled look in her eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"There's something different about you-besides the clothes-I can't quite-"

"Ddrysfa took back my magic."

"Ddrysfa?"

"The Labyrinth," he explained. "Her name, I am told, is Ddrysfa."

"_What!_" Sarah stared at him. "You are telling me, that the Labyrinth is a person, a _she?!_"

He nodded, "Yes, what of it?"

"That _bitch!_"

Startled, now it was his turn to stare at her. Sarah had suddenly transformed into an avenging fury. Her eyes blazed and he could almost feel the anger radiating off her in waves.

"All my nightmares! It was _her!_ I thought I was going bat-shit crazy, but all this time it was _her! _She kept warning me off you, but I didn't understand. No wonder the Labyrinth was out to get me that first day! That _bitch!_"

He lay a restraining hand on her arm. "I'm afraid that's not all she took, Sarah."

And he told her what he had found in the Labyrinth courtyard and what had happened afterward.

Sarah's expression when he finished was somehow more terrifying than her anger had been. Where before she had been a raging hurricane, now she was the still centre at its eye.

"I am going to get my body back, and _she_ is going to regret she _ever_ messed with me."

"Oh, I don't think so. Quite the reverse, in fact." They both started as Sarah's voice drawled out of the shadows. They turned in unison to see a second Sarah step from behind a pillar into the light. He felt Sarah's hand find his and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Hello, my love," Ddrysfa said, smiling at Jareth.

"He's _not_ your love." Sarah's voice seethed with resentment.

Ddrysfa almost purred with satisfaction. "I'm afraid he _promised_. What's said is said: _remember?_"

"Jareth?" The question in Sarah's eyes made his heart ache. He nodded slowly.

Ddrysfa smiled victoriously.

"Mine _forever_."

She moved forward with a predatory light in her eyes. Jareth quickly dropped Sarah's hand and stepped in front of her.

"You may own me, but you do not own Sarah. Let her go."

Ddrysfa laughed derisively. "Oh, Sarah's body also belongs to me now. Mine by right of conquest. Besides, I like having a proper body again. There are some things you cannot _do_ without one." She stretched out a hand and laid it on his chest. "I have some plans, in fact, that involve you," she said seductively.

Jareth shuddered. He sensed Sarah stiffen in outrage behind him.

"However, right at present, my love, I'm afraid it's time for you leave. Sarah and I have things to . . . discuss."

She made a flicking gesture with her fingers and he suddenly found himself fading. As everything went dark, he saw the shadows come alive behind Sarah and watched helplessly as they swallowed her.

Then he woke up in Sarah's apartment and found that it was almost dawn.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

**There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember. **_**(Hamlet**_**, IV.v). **

After the black depths of the well had come the dark. Sarah had found herself in a sort of limbo which her mind couldn't comprehend. Eventually, she felt the cracks starting in her sanity, hairline at first, but ever-widening, and then through the cracks had come dreams. Her mind had reached out willingly, eager for something familiar, and had burned once again. All her old nightmares revived and swarmed, and, after them, she found a myriad of new-birthed terrors waiting to continue the torture.

She fled, trying to hide in the fantasies she had spun in idle hours, her childhood wishes and teenage imaginings. It was all to no avail. Her hopes and private stories twisted and turned against her, biting into her fragile consciousness with teeth as sharp as shards of glass. Eventually she stopped fighting to escape and retreated, curling up in her memories like a snail in its shell. Some of these had been cracked and invaded, crumbling into nothing. Finally she had found one memory with walls strong enough to protect her: The Labyrinth.

The source of all her pain now became her salvation, but Sarah did not have time to muse on the irony. She concentrated on reinforcing her refuge, reliving and retracing every moment, deepening their furrows within her even further by frantic repetition. Each reiteration became more difficult as new nuances and details crept out of the shadows and demanded her attention. She found this new knowledge distracting, her mind pulled away from her crucial task by a need to understand the implications. Had Jareth always looked at her in just that way? Had there always been a breathless, despairing hope hiding in his voice and eyes? She traced it and wondered.

How many times she piled gesture on gesture, word on word, she did not know. Every facet of the memory was cut, honed, and polished, and, purified, flashed with crystal fire. Still she kept on.

Then, impossibly, something had changed.

She stood in the ruins of the Escher Room, repeating, repeating, and then, somehow, the Goblin King changed his lines.

"Give me the child."

"Sarah, beware." _Sarah, please._ "I have been generous up 'til now. I can be cruel." _Stop_.

"Generous? What have you done that's generous?"

"_Everything_! Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken. I took him. You cowered before me, I was frightening." _Listen to me._ "I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for _you_! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations. Isn't that generous?"

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my-"

_"Stop! Wait! Look, Sarah. Look what I'm offering you-your dreams._" **Sarah,**

"-my kingdom is as great. . ."

"_I ask for so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything you want._" **I love you.**

"My kingdom is as great, my kingdom is as great. . . Damn, I can never remember that line," she muttered.

_Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave. _"**Sarah, look at me. Please.**" He whispered the words, but she felt them like an earthquake.

"My kingdom is as great. . ." She looked up as she had then, and mechanically repeated the lines, "You have no power over me." As she repeated her final words as she had then, something clicked over and suddenly the feather-cloaked Goblin King of her memories vanished and in his place stood Jareth, his face worn and his shoulders sagging with utter despair. Her mind whirled with disbelief and she breathed his name, afraid that saying it would break the illusion. But he remained, standing there before her, head bowed in defeat, such a contrast to his former imperious self.

"Jareth! You shag-haired glitter fiend! Look at me!"

She didn't know what they had spoken of after that. All she knew was that Jareth gathered her in his arms and kissed her so desperately that she thought she had lost her mind all over again, feeling as though they had merged and blended into one perfect whole: she _was_ Jareth and Jareth was her. His heart was beating under her ear when she finally found herself divided back into Sarah again. The sensation of loss had been crushing, but there hadn't been time to mourn it.

As though speaking her name had summoned her (perhaps it had), Ddrysfa had appeared and in the space of a few breaths, Jareth had vanished. Sarah felt the pain of it crumbling the careful walls she had built, but once again she didn't have time to feel: She was too busy fighting for her life.

At the same time as Ddrysfa had evicted Jareth from Sarah's memories, her shadows had attacked Sarah herself. The surprise attack had almost worked. Sarah felt herself crushed by the darkness once again. She dove back into her memories, seeking refuge and sanity in their predictability.

She watched Sarah staring at Goblin King as he appeared in her parents' bedroom, eyes terrified pools of green. She felt the thrill of power as the girl begged for her brother back.

. . .

She watched Sarah in the oubliette, and heard the goblins laughing, when she told them where the runner was.

"Shut up!" She commanded. "She should have given up by now."

To her annoyance, a goblin protested, "She'll never give up."

"The dwarf will lead her back to the beginning. She'll give up when she realizes she has to start all over again." She laughed in amusement at her own joke. The goblins were too slow to join in.

"Well, laugh." Her voice was a threat. To her disappointment-she would have like to have give them all a good bogging-they quickly obliged, and distracted by the prospect of the girl's consternation when she discovered she was back at the entrance to Labyrinth, she laughed again herself.

. . .

She wiped away frightened tears and argued with a voice which hissed through the Labyrinth's stone passages like a sentient wind. She heard it argue and persuade, and then she felt herself speak the words which gave her unspeakable power: "I, Jareth, swear to belong to the Labyrinth forever."

Sarah pulled away from the memory, startled: _I, Jareth? _What?! Why would she ever say 'I, Jareth'?

Then she realized: These were not _her_ memories, these were Jareth's! How had she gotten into _Jareth_'s memories?

_The kiss. She was Jareth and Jareth was her. _

_Wow, _Sarah thought. Apparently_,_ that sensation of merging/blending had not been a whimsical interpretation of a rather impassioned dream kiss, but a true and actual fact. But, she realized with a slightly panicky feeling, that would mean that Jareth would _have her memories, he would know her thoughts, every embarrassing time she had thought about-_she gulped. Before she could think about all the possible implications of this suddenly terrifying reality, Ddrysfa 's voice once again drove all other thoughts from her head.

"So, Sarah," she taunted, "How are you enjoying _my_ Labyrinth?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Seriously, can you be a little more original?"

"Excuse me?" Ddrysfa was taken aback.

_Ha, _Sarah thought triumphantly, _score one for me. _She looked at Ddrysfa with one eyebrow raised, then shrugged. "Ah well, I guess Jareth does the same with your favourite lines. I suppose its only fair."

"And _fair_ is all _you_ care about, isn't it, Sarah?"

Sarah laughed lightly. "Not really. I've learned that fair isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes _fair_ is just not enough. Sometimes," Sarah smiled and bared her teeth, sauntering casually toward Ddrysfa, "There's a crying need for some good old-fashioned justice."

Searching Jareth's memories, she found the thing she sought and with a twist of her wrist, projected herself a crystal.

"'I've brought you a gift,'" she quoted, her voice an uncanny echo of Jareth's from all those years before. As she spoke, her free hand shot out and grabbed Ddrysfa's hand, and she forced the creature's fingers to close around the crystal.

As soon as Ddrysfa touched the sphere, Sarah felt the gateway open. She didn't hesitate.

"This belongs to _me!"_ She said and took back her body.

Blinking in the light of the setting sun, Sarah found herself standing in the Labyrinth courtyard beside the well, holding a crystal in her right hand. A crystal which had, she thought, fallen into the well, dragging her down into its depths. Sarah felt Ddrysfa attempting to re-establish the spell to trap her again and grinned.

"I don't think so, Ddrysfa. Your reign here is finished."

The crystal shattered beautifully on the stone of the courtyard.

"_But that's not fair_!" Ddrysfa protested, her voice reduced to a hiss. She hovered, a pale wraith-like shape, beside the well.

"Not fair?" Sarah's laugh snapped like a lash. "As I said before, _fair_ doesn't enter into this! This is _justice_! And I, _I_ am your judge and executioner! And I decree that you are banished for your crimes! Now _get OUT!_"

Immediately, the creature winked out of existence and Sarah knew with a certainty she couldn't explain that Ddrysfa no longer remained in even the tiniest pebble of the Labyrinth.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

**I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. (**_**Much Ado About Nothing**_**, IV.i)**

"Well done." The melodious voice was unfamiliar. Sarah turned and saw Midnight personified, gowned in the darkest blue of deep space and crowned with the light of a thousand stars. Her beauty stung Sarah's eyes and she knew immediately who this must be.

"Your Majesty!"

A cool hand lifted her chin. "Rise, Sarah. In this moment, you kneel to no one, not even me." Titania's voice was fierce with pride. Sarah rose clumsily to her feet, feeling like the merest nothing in the face of Titania's glory.

"You have defeated the Labyrinth against all expectation. You have defied even the stars' designs. For that, Sarah Williams, I salute you."

And then, to Sarah's eternal amazement, the Fairy Queen bowed solemnly before her.

As she stared, an earthquake shook the Labyrinth. The ominous rumble grew until Sarah felt almost deafened; she saw the ground dancing all around her, but the place she stood remained firm.

"What's going on?" She gasped.

Titania straightened and smiled broadly. "The Labyrinth rejoices in its new queen."

"Queen?" For a moment Sarah gazed wide-eyed at the chaos unfolding before her, then she discovered in herself a new awareness. She knew every stone and blade of grass that stretched before her, the location of every creature which inhabited the Labyrinth. She swayed slightly under the wave of information, finally gasping as she withdrew her consciousness, "Me?"

Titania inclined her head majestically. "What's said is said."

"But-"

Titania smiled again and explained, "You decreed yourself Ddrysfa's judge: only the Queen of the Labyrinth could banish her from her stronghold here." She gestured and Sarah felt a slight tingle as the Labyrinth Opal appeared around her neck. The stone glowed and shimmered.

"However," she added, "Before your victory is fully complete, you have one final task."

Sarah waited expectantly.

"Return the Goblin King to his throne."

The words seemed to echo in her skull and she closed her eyes in an effort to quell the overwhelming vertigo which followed them. When she opened them, Sarah found herself standing on the wet grass outside her apartment. Around her the early morning air was damp and still. A hint of golden light was just creeping into the eastern sky. The remains of the night's rain on the grass made dark splotches on her boots. The only sound which broke the calm was the occasional robin or chickadee singing about the coming sun.

Sarah looked up at her apartment window. Someone had left a light on.

"Please, oh please, oh please let him still be there," she begged under her breath as she strode quickly to the door. She met Tom Mandeville at the entrance, a good thing, since she didn't have a key or her phone to open the door. Coincidence? She wondered. Probably not.

"You've been out?" he asked as he unlocked the door. "Isn't it a bit early for you?"

"I went out for some air, but forgot my key. Glad I met you. I could have paged Mrs. Abertain but I hate to bother her."

"Well as long as you aren't having any more nightmares, I think she'll be fine. She was really worried about you."

Sarah smiled, "I don't think the nightmares will be a problem anymore."

They parted ways outside her door. Tom let himself into his own apartment and waved goodbye as he closed the door.

Sarah reached out for the door knob and suddenly noticed the pendant hanging around her neck. She paused and tucked it inside her shirt.

Jareth sat sleeping in the worn leather armchair Sarah's father had given her when she moved out. She gazed down at him, memorizing the moment. Even in sleep his face had a watchful quality, its planes smoothed, yes, by relaxation, but still hawk-like and fierce. It had to be the eyebrows, she thought amusedly, and the nose. And maybe, the deep lines around his mouth which even sleep could not erase. She noted that his magic once again curled and billowed within him.

As she stood there, Jareth stirred and opened his eyes. She smiled.

"Hi."

He groaned, sat forward, and buried his face in his hands. Sarah blinked with disappointment. _This_ was not the reaction she had expected.

"Jareth?"

His head lifted out of his hands, his piercing, mismatched eyes wide with a mix of fear and hopeful wonder.

"Sarah?"

Her mouth quivered and tears brimmed and swam down her cheeks. She tried to smile, but failed miserably.

One of Jareth's lean hand reached out and grasped her firmly by the wrist and yanked her forward, off her feet, over the arm of the chair, and into his lap. She flung her arms around him and began to cry in earnest.

"Sarah, Sarah, oh my love, I thought-" Words seemed to fail him and he resorted to kissing her hair, her neck, as much of her as he could manage.

Sarah felt these promising caresses and lifted her tear-drenched face to look into his eyes. What she saw there made her heart almost break with yearning. She threaded her fingers into his hair and, pulling his head towards her, kissed him eagerly.

Eventually they broke apart, breathless. Jareth framed her face with his lean hands, tenderly wiping away the tears which still clung to her lashes and kissing her eyelids.

"How you've turned my world, you precious thing."

Sarah hiccupped, half-sob, half-laughter, more tears threatened to spill down her face. "Stop talking, you fool, and kiss me again."

The Goblin King needed no further encouragement.

A while later, Jareth paused from his exploration of her throat and gloated. "Did I not say that at the end of all of this, you would end up in my bed?"

"Excuse me, your _majesty_, but I'm afraid you are quite mistaken." She grinned rather wickedly. "I think that you will find that _you_ are in _mine_."

He stopped kissing her collar bones for a moment and looked around. He chuckled when he saw that they now lay on Sarah's bed.

"Clever girl. Now tell me, how did you escape?"

Sarah laughed. "Well, it took more than a chair," she said wryly.

He chuckled again, but his arms tightened around her convulsively and she realized a moment later that he was weeping.

"Shhh." Sarah's fingers smoothed his hair.

"I thought I had lost you again."

"You almost did, but you never will. I love you."

Jareth raised his head to look at her. Now it was Sarah's turn to brush away his tears.

"Forever, Sarah?" His question shone in his eyes.

She nodded. "Forever."

His mouth met hers in a tender, triumphal kiss.

"_Now_ will you be my queen?"

He was dismayed at her reaction. Hadn't she said she loved him and wanted to stay with him forever?

Why then was she was biting her lip and looking a bit. . . terrified?

"What's wrong?"

"Well, the thing is. . . I. . . sort of. . . kind of . . . already am?" Her face was white and he saw apology and pleading in her eyes. She put her hand inside the neck of her shirt and pulled out the silver chain. He stared at the pendant. His mind simultaneously acknowledging and refusing the information it conveyed.

"Jareth?" His eyes met hers wonderingly. "My kingdom is as great," she whispered, a faintly teasing smile on her lovely mouth.

Against his will, he grinned and a soft laugh escaped him.

"It is, isn't it?"

He bent his head and kissed her again. Then his hands began to explore wider territory and Sarah gasped. Her fingers gripped his upper arms.

"Jareth? Stop?"

Sarah's words arrested his progress. He looked up, confused, disappointed, and saw that she was blushing. "The walls here are kind of thin. Maybe it would be better. . ." Sarah's blush deepened even further. "What I'm trying to say is, well. . . Let's go home."

A broad smile spread over his face and he dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Your wish is my command," he teased.

_Fin_

* * *

_Well, this is it, folks. Thanks to all those who have read and left reviews. I greatly appreciate all the feedback and comments. This is the longest **complete **__story I've ever written and I've enjoyed sharing it with you. I'm contemplating writing more Jareth and Sarah in the future, whether it be some one-shots or a sequel or something completely unconnected with this particular story-but, of course, I make no promises. I was rather a slave to my muse for _Mazed_ and the fire has subsided for the time being. Be assured, however, that if I _do_ write more, I will (very likely) post it here. :) _


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